


The Rest Will Work Out

by 42percentcrit



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi | Fire Emblem: Binding Blade
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Dieck is 29-32 ish in this and Klein is 19 so, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Slow Burn, both adults but if the age gap bothers you hit that back button, elphin spelled elffin, t rating for some violence and mild language nothing nsfw, there's angst in later chapters but it ends happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-06 15:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 26,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11603331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/42percentcrit/pseuds/42percentcrit
Summary: After 13 years, Klein finds his old protector Dieck in Roy's army and tries to reconnect. But a lot changes in 13 years-- what is their relationship now, and what does he want it to be?Story is now complete!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic so I hope it's not too bad! The story follows the events of FE6 from when Klein joins in chapter 10/11 through to the epilogue so it's gonna be long;; The first few chapters cover Klein and Dieck's supports, and things go from there.

Klein had thought it might happen. In fact, a part of him had always believed-- wished-- it would, ever since he took command his squadron. Perhaps, if he was being truly honest with himself, that was the reason he had chosen such a military path to begin with, not simply to gain experience in the world beyond his sheltered home or to put the archery skills his mother had taught him to the test. He had wanted this.

Still it was a shock when, as his new employer Lord Roy of Pherae was showing him around the small army's camp, Klein saw Dieck among the other soldiers. He was of course older than the man in Klein's memories, more worn, and looked even stronger than before. He was surrounded by a group of other mercenaries, their affection for and loyalty to each other showing in their postures and faces. _They_ had no reason to think he would walk out on them, Klein thought.

Clarine hadn't mentioned that he was here, though that was unsurprising as she had been too young when the scarred ex-pit fighter left their house to recognize him now. She knew _of_ him, certainly-- Klein had spoken of him to her often-- but she did not _know_ him, per se. Even though they had been traveling in this army together for a while now, it was easy to imagine proud Clarine taking one look at Dieck's face and deciding she wanted nothing to do with him, Klein thought to himself. They were both somewhat harsh in their own ways, his sister and his-- what was Dieck to him, exactly? More than an old bodyguard or role model. A friend, maybe.

So he had hoped, at least, but the evidence was against him: in the time since Klein had taken up Roy's banner he hadn't once been able to find time to talk with his "friend", or rather he often hadn't been able to find said "friend" in the first place despite putting all the time he could to the task. After all these years, he had found him again-- as an ally, not an enemy, Saint Elimine be blessed-- yet it seemed the man was going out of his way to avoid him.

Finally, an opportunity arose on the battlefield.

They had just got word of a coup d'état in Klein's home country, Etruria, and were hurrying to the aid of one of his colleagues, the Sorcery General Cecilia. Roy had sent a group, including Dieck, to push through an enemy-held chokepoint, but as the tide was turning in their favor, Bern's wyvern riders drew near. Klein and his archers were sent to dispatch them before the point could be snatched away again.

Eventually the last of the enemy riders fell from the sky, and the path was secured. Safe for the moment, Klein caught up to his other, more elusive quarry.

"Excuse me."

Dieck glanced in the direction of the voice addressing him, and gave a cursory bow of the head when he saw who was speaking.

"Do you need something, General Klein?"

The archer's heart sank. Was that it? Dieck hadn't been avoiding him, rather...

"Dieck... don't you remember me?"

There was a pause, the question hanging heavily between them. After a moment that felt much too long, the mercenary turned away with a short laugh. "Well, well. Never would've thought you'd still remember _me_ ," he muttered, emphasizing the last word.

Klein was indignant. "I recognized you at once! You didn't seem to notice me, so I came to talk to you..." He trailed off, the anger in his voice giving way to uncertainty. Dieck, if he noticed, showed no sign.

"13 years... Little Master Klein is all grown up, I see."

"You can stop calling me Little Master," Klein replied hotly, uncertainty once more pushed aside. Ignoring him, acting distant and then turning the matter on him, using this condescending form of address-- everything Dieck had said and done so far seemed to be to toy with or mock him.

Not that he should be surprised-- the man had done worse before. Disappearing so suddenly... but that was in the past. "I'm already 19 now. I've been working as a general under the king himself." _And I protected you in this battle just now_ , he added in his mind.

"Yeah, you've turned out to be quite a guy." More sarcasm. Probably. Had there been sincerity in his voice? Before he could decide, Dieck continued. "How's Lord Pent and the wife?"

"Huh? Oh... You know them. Laid-back as usual. Regardless of the coup d'état, they still don't seem to be that concerned at all." Klein shook his head. Odd as it seemed, he realized he wasn't worried about them.

His parents were strong, in many ways. He was sure they could defend themselves if things came to that, and they had so far avoided getting caught in the web of corruption ensnaring the country. If they could face this sort of upheaval with grace, he thought, then they certainly would never be so flustered over something like talking to an old acquaintance, even if they had last parted on bad terms. They would also never be doubtful of someone they cared for, and would surely impress anyone they wished to impress. "I really envy them sometimes."

For a moment, an unreadable look flickered across Dieck's face. It was already gone as he turned to walk away.

"Well, you turned out pretty impressive yourself."

There, again! That was the second time the older man had said something like that, and this time Klein was sure he heard something more than simple mockery beneath those words. What, exactly, he couldn't say.

"What do you mean?" He moved to follow, but a raised hand from Dieck indicated the conversation was over. The army was moving forward again.

"We'll talk about it some other time", he called, not turning around as he headed for the front. Klein, left with only his own confusion and frustration, readjusted his quiver with a sigh and and went to rejoin the other archers. There was still a battle to be won.


	2. Chapter 2

Klein had noticed that Dieck was no longer avoiding him. As the army pressed on into the mysterious heart of the Nabata Desert, the two men often found themselves fighting side by side or providing cover for each other. They still rarely met during more peaceful moments-- not that there had been many-- but it was enough to fight together.

Klein turned over on his bed roll with a sigh. No, no it wasn't enough. He just wanted it to be enough, it should have been enough. He had been a soldier and a commander for some time, and he was not so insecure as to need the approval of his childhood hero, but nonetheless he wanted it. Perhaps being allowed to stand at Dieck's side was proof that he had it. What else did he want then? To be friends, to bring him home and live together like old times?

...well, yes.

It was true that things were much different now than they were 13 years ago when the bodyguard of House Reglay's only son abruptly bought his freedom and left. The world had become embroiled in war, and Klein was now a grown man.

The two years of his childhood spent with Dieck were only a small fraction of his life, but they had been more than long enough to show that the man was loyal, honorable, and brave. That, at least, had not changed; of this Klein was sure. He was equally sure that his mother and father would happily welcome the swordsman back without batting an eye-- they were that sort of people.

 _You turned out pretty impressive yourself_.

Dieck's words from before echoed in his mind. The man never had gotten around to explaining what he meant; still, Klein was hopeful they would be friends yet.

With that thought, he fell asleep.

***

"Klein!"

The sniper spun around to see Dieck jogging toward him. "Don't get so close to the front lines."

Klein glanced at his surroundings. "This is still a safe position," he began to object, but the mercenary cut him off with a sharp shake of his head.

"You bowmen should stay in the back and cover for us. There's no need for you to come out and put yourself in danger."

The argument was reasonable, but it still grated. "Dieck, I told you, I'm not a child any more. Until now, I've been leading my own squadron and fighting at the front all the time." Hadn't he had proved this by now?

Dieck smiled. It would have been a charming smile if Klein wasn't sure he was about to say something like--

"Sorry, but you're still 'Little Master Klein' in my eyes."

\--that.

So he was still just a child, a spoiled rich child who needed saving, as far as Dieck was concerned. It stung. So much for fighting together as partners, so much for becoming real friends.

Through his disappointment, Klein realized Dieck was still speaking.

"...hurt, I wouldn't know what to say to Lord Pent."

Actually, that smile was still charming. The man it belonged to was still charming, and kind and impressive and everything else, and Klein would be damned if he gave up on him so quickly.

Composing himself, he replied. "...If you're being so considerate, then you should come back to our mansion." There. That wasn't so hard, was it? And it was quite normal, quite reasonable of a proposition, yes.

Dieck stared at him.

Unaware, the younger man pressed on, voice growing more earnest and as he finally shared the hope he had been secretly nurturing these past weeks. "Dieck, when this war ends, do you want to return home with me?"

No reply.

"Father and Mother would certainly appreciate it..." It was an afterthought, and sounded almost like an excuse to Klein even as he said it, but it was true. And more importantly, it finally got a reaction out of Dieck other than stunned silence.

"Look. I uh, appreciate the thought..." Klein didn't like the sound of this. "...but if you really cared about your House, you'd stop chatting with a lowly mercenary like me. It wouldn't be good for your future."

His voice wasn't bitter, just matter-of-fact. That made it only more wrong to Klein's ears. He felt like he had been struck by a bolt from one of his father's magic tomes, and all he could say was:

"What!?"

The hurt and confusion in his voice was obvious but that was hardly a concern right now. Lowly? Never. And the future-- he wanted Dieck in it, that was his whole point!

Dieck sighed, as if he was having to explain something very simple. As if he was talking to a child. "You're only talking to me like this because we're in a war," he said bluntly, and then with a harsher tone that denied any argument, "Got it?"

The following silence lasted until the approach of more enemy soldiers pushed everyone back into action.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since there's no limit on how many people you could talk to in real life, I plan to use parts from many people's support convos throughout this story... this chapter references stuff from Klein & Clarine's A support, and Clarine & Dieck's C-B supports

The daunting task of retaking the Etrurian capital lay before Roy's Lycian Alliance Army, but the air between Klein of Reglay and Dieck the Mercenary was heavy with tension and unease for a different reason. Since their argument, the noble's halfhearted attempts to speak with the other man were flatly ignored unless relevant to battle. When Klein changed tactics and tried getting friendly with Dieck's men instead, he also found himself stonewalled.

Discouraged by his failures and tired from running over battle simulations with Lord Roy and his own fellow Etrurian generals (and that suspicious but somehow familiar bard who had been advising Lord Roy of late), Klein scarcely heard what Clarine was saying to him as they sat together in her tent.

"Are you listening, Klein?"

"Hm?"

"I said that once the city is secured, I can show Father the progress I've made studying magic since Lord Roy promoted me!"

Klein smiled, then looked quizzical. "Do you mean to go home after this battle? I thought you wanted to stay and help Lord Roy's cause."

"I do, I do! I told you, I plan to be the next Sorcery General! I can hardly shirk responsibility at a time like this, then, can I?" She shook her head emphatically. "I only meant we might visit Mother and Father before we move on, seeing as we're in the capital."

"I'm afraid there might not be time for that. You've been in this company longer than I, you know that Lord Roy is ever on the move. Besides, Mother and Father will be busy keeping things under control. Times like this can turn a city of good people into a mob if there's no one to guide them."

Clarine thought for a moment, looking displeased, but she nodded. "I suppose it can't be helped. Well, I shall just have to wait until this is over. I'm sure to be an even more amazingly skilled magic user by then, and I'll have helped save the continent." She seemed satisfied with this.

Though her words were still all self-aggrandizement, there was a sincere wish to make a difference motivating her now, and she had indeed been making herself useful to the war effort. Klein had to admit she had come a long way from the girl he'd left at home when he joined Etruria's military. But, he thought with a smile, she was still his little sister.

...was that what Dieck had meant before? "Impressive" but still "Little Master Klein." Like a little brother... the thought sent a mixture of understanding and unease through him, but it was irrelevant now: Dieck had made clear that he wanted nothing more to do with him than absolutely necessary.

Clarine cut through his thoughts. "Well, what is it?"

"Pardon?"

"You're mind's been elsewhere this whole time, Klein, it's obvious. So, what's wrong?" She leaned in conspiratorially. "Is this about that meeting you had with the other generals?"

He shook his head.

"It's nothing."

Though retaking the city would not be easy, talk at said meeting had been optimistic: the Church of Elimine had great sway here, and had thrown its support behind them rather than the coup d'état forces. Regardless, compared to the gravity of what they had been discussing, Kleon's preoccupation with Dieck was embarrassing. Not because the man himself was embarrassing or "lowly" or any of that; it would have been embarrassing even if the cause of his distraction were Princess Guinevere herself. The problem was, why could he, an adult and a general, not simply focus on his duties?

His words did not convince Clarine.

"So it wasn't the war council. Does it have to do with that pack of mercenaries you've been following around lately?"

She was sharp, this sister of his. And stubborn. He took a deep breath.

"Do you remember that pit fighter I told you about when we were little, the one who saved my life?"

"Dieck?" Klein waited for the realization to dawn on her. Sure enough: "That rude man with those awful scars is _your_ Dieck?!"

"He's not rude, and some of those scars are my fault, Clarine." Pause. "And he isn't 'mine' or anyone else's." He recalled, uncomfortably, his parents trying to explain to a distraught little boy that the swordsman had "bought his freedom." He had decided long ago that he would never use money to keep a person around him unwillingly: even when he had hired Ilian forces in his capacity as the Etrurian general, he made it clear that he would not demand their loyalty or service, and that those who wished could leave.

"He has a foul mouth and a bad temper," Clarine insisted. "I wish you'd told me earlier; it would've saved me the indignity of chasing him around trying to badger the information out of him."

The correct response was probably "Don't badger people," but what came out of Klein's mouth was, "What information?"

"Why, how a man like _him_ knew a man like _my brother_! This was before you joined us, but he mentioned you and our parents the first time we spoke. Naturally I wanted to know what business he had with our family, but he refused to give me any answers, only insults at every turn." She huffed with indignation at the memory. "He even said that I wasn't cute enough to be your sister, can you believe the nerve!"

"You're plenty cute enough for both of us, Clarine," Klein replied with a laugh, his mind still sorting through his sister's story. So Dieck had been thinking of him and his time with the Reglays even before Klein had walked back into his life to remind him. That was hopeful. He had also called him "cute", or at least implied it in contrast to Clarine-- this, Klein was not so happy to hear. To have been remembered with affection lifted his spirits, but "cute" was a word for children and little siblings. _Like a little brother_ , he thought for the second time that day. The idea still sat awkwardly with him.

"Well _I_ know that," Clarine muttered. "He must just be too unrefined to appreciate me. Klein, if he saved your life and is important to you then he's important to me, but _do_  try to teach him something of aesthetics, won't you?"

He nodded absently. "If he'll speak to me."

Clarine's eyes narrowed, wordlessly demanding further explanation. Klein summarized his exchanges with the swordsman since their reunion, careful to give an impartial, objective account rather than dive into his own feelings and speculations on the matter. His sister nodded.

"He's not wrong," she said. "Fraternizing with a lowborn of his sort is hardly becoming of your station." Klein opened his mouth to argue, but she was still speaking. "However, you're not wrong either. Our parents _would_ take him back in an instant-- even I know they've always been eccentric that way. After all, Mother..." They shared a nod. Clarine sighed. "And, though he _is_ rude, I've seen for myself that he fights honorably for Lord Roy. I can understand why you might want him around."

Klein's face brightened. "Perhaps I'll try to speak with him one more time."

"Perhaps? Where is your confidence, Klein? You're the heir of House Reglay and the Archery General of Etruria, aren't you?"

"Ha! You're right, of course. Thank you, Clarine."

"Think nothing of it."


	4. Chapter 4

Aquleia had been reclaimed. Roy was preparing to take a small group to pursue the last of Bern's forces in the city, who had withdrawn to the sacred Tower of Elimine. It was during this lull that Klein made his move. Steeling himself and putting on his calmest face, he approached his old protector.

"Dieck."

It was a demand more than an address. He would not be brushed off this time. Grudgingly, Dieck replied.

"...Klein, I told you to quit coming to chat with me like this."

Klein stopped. Dieck seemed not to have realized, but this was the first time he had called Klein by name alone-- no "General" or "Little Master." But it was probably a slip of the tongue, with no significance, he decided with a small shake of the head before looking levelly at Dieck once more.

"There's a story I would have you listen to. Listen well, these are troubled times and there may not be another chance for me to tell you."

Dieck crossed his arms and waited expectantly.

"It was 15 years ago, at Aquleia's best arena. During the opening show, a child from a noble family fell into the ring and was about the be attacked by lions." Klein shuddered, and Dieck looked like he might say something or reach out, but instead looked away and kept whatever the story was stirring in him to himself. Klein continued.

"It was a young pit fighter who saved the child. People say this skilled swordsman had often taken on men twice his size with ease, but this time he was facing lions." _And he was fighting to protect a child, not just his own life_. "He slew them, but did not escape injury. He was wounded all over, and his face he suffered four deep..."

Dieck turned toward him.

"...scars."

Scars like that never healed completely.

"The child's thankful father hired the swordsman, and for two years the young man served the noble family as their personal pit fighter, gaining fame in the arena."

A small smile from Dieck.

"Then suddenly, he bought his freedom and vanished. The boy he had saved, who had grown to admire the swordsman..." Klein found the next words sticking in his mouth, "...like an older brother, felt betrayed and saddened."

Dieck grimaced.

"...But really, the pit fighter only had the family's best interests in mind. Isn't that right, Dieck?"

The other man, normally so confident and sure of his words, appeared to be struggling for a response.

"You..." He shifted his weight. "...You were always too good to a servant like me. I was just meant to keep you safe and win the Lord and Lady money in the arena, but your parents? They let me live in the main house, tried to give me real book-learning type lessons when I wasn't fighting, treated me like I was practically their own kid."

He looked pointedly at Klein. "They got a lot of nasty rumors and pointing fingers for their trouble. The kind of talk that might ruin things for a young noble and his baby sister. But a fighter doesn't mind that business. Just needs an enemy and someone to pay him, and those you can find anywhere." He looked up at the sky. "So I left."

Klein waited, but the man seemed to have spoken his piece, now just watching the clouds. It was his turn.

"I understand what you were thinking. But I can't agree with it."

This snapped Dieck back from his reverie, and he fixed the younger man with a sharp, questioning stare.

"You're always trying to do what's best for my family," Klein's earlier facade was gone and conflicting emotions filled his face. "but did you ever consider what we truly wanted? That we might be concerned for you, too?" _That I still am?_ He looked down at his hands. "I don't want us to have the kind of relationship that means we have to ignore each other when we meet..."

That was the truth. He had wanted to find his childhood hero again and be acknowledged not ignored by him, to replace hero-worship and betrayal with mutual respect and friendship. But now, after the weeks they'd spent together... it was the truth, but maybe not the whole truth anymore.

He looked up and saw Dieck still staring at him, face unreadable for a moment-- then there was that charming smile again. Klein caught his breath sharply.

"Looks like I was being selfish!" Dieck chuckled gruffly.

"! Then you'll come back and be with us--" Klein was stumbling over his own words. Why had he wanted to say "me" rather than "us"? "--like family again?" Why was "family" so hard to say?

"Yeah. You win, Little Master Klein." The swordsman reached out and ruffled the archer's golden hair. "I'll be sure to go visit Lord Pent soon as I get a chance."

A visit wasn't as much as Klein had wanted, and there was still something in the back of Klein's mind that felt not quite right, but he ignored it. Good enough. For now, he let himself think only of the sound of Dieck's laughter, and the way the space between them felt smaller and warmer than it had yesterday.

As he had said, these were troubled times; it was best to take what happiness you could find when you found it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the first Dieck POV chapter! From here on, there'll be a mix of chapters from both his and Klein's POV.
> 
> Also, as you'll see, this story is following the Ilia route rather than the Sacae route. Nothing against Sacae but Ilia just worked better for what I wanted to do ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The Lycian Alliance Army, newly renamed the Etrurian Army after the successful route of Bern's forces from the capital and addition of what troops could be spared by the great houses, was on the march toward Ilia.

This suited Dieck: he was restless, unusually so. Back in Aquleia, he'd let himself get carried away, said things and believed things he shouldn't have. He was not a man to make promises, and yet he'd promised to visit Castle Reglay after the war. Who knew if he'd even live that long? In his line of work, he had cultivated an acceptance that any day might be his last: he would fight his damnedest to survive, of course, but every battle had casualties. Still, the thought of breaking his promise to Klein left a bad taste in his mouth.

Klein... he had made Dieck promise another thing, as well. To be "like family."

_The boy, who had come to admire the swordsman like an older brother..._

Though Dieck could still see in him that little boy who had needed rescuing, Klein had grown into a fine warrior. He could, and did, fight his own battles now, with an elegance that Dieck would never have. Even after long and bloody hours felling enemies with that silver bow of his, he looked regal. Whether among his soldiers or other nobles, he tried to treat the people around him with fairness. And the way his eyes shone with such earnesty when he spoke...

He really had become quite a man.

Dieck shifted his pack and brushed the dirt of the road out of his face, trying to clear his mind. He would let Klein call him a brother, let him endanger his reputation if he was so set upon it. Dieck had promised, after all. But he already had two little "brothers", his men Lot and Wade, and however he felt about Klein was _not_ how he felt about them.

That was natural though, wasn't it? Nobles were nobles. The bad ones treated you like dirt, and even the kinder ones knew they stood above you. It wasn't that he doubted the sincerity of Klein's concern for him, misplaced as it was-- how could he doubt those shining eyes-- it was just that this was the way the world was, and Dieck accepted it. _Everything_ was different with nobles, and it wasn't any good thinking about it too much.

As they made camp in the evening, the unseasonable chill in the air gave proof to the estimate that they would reach the Ilian border by mid morning tomorrow. Dieck wondered how the youngest of his band, Shanna, would feel having to attack her countrymen, and decided to check on her before turning in.

Nearing her tent, though, he saw a serious-faced young woman enter before him. It was Thea, he realized, another Ilian and Shanna's older sister. She had probably had the same thought to check on the younger girl, and she was in a much better position to comfort or reassure her, he reasoned. There was no need for him to butt in.

As he turned back toward his own tent, he reflected that Thea had joined Roy's forces around the same time Klein had. Actually, during the very same battle-- she and her riders had been working for the Etrurian general, and changed allegiances with him.

Like Klein, her age belied her experience on the field of battle; she was a more than capable fighter, and a higher grade of mercenary than Dieck. A respectable knight. And, though he felt no interest in her himself, he could see she had a pretty face and a fierce charm about her. It was the sort of face and charm that might catch the eye of a fine young commander fighting beside her.

Dieck rubbed his jaw, feeling the gouges of old scars. He was thinking about pointless things again. For now all he needed to do was sleep and be rested for tomorrow.

***

The battle to enter Ilia had not been easy, but the Etrurian Army was rewarded for its efforts with the capture of a large border fortress where they could spend at least one night out of the cold and gather supplies left by the former occupants: warm cloaks, thick boots, the like. As they moved further into the frozen highland, these would be vital.

A certain mercenary was still shirtless as usual when Klein found him, though.

"Dieck!" he called, his voice echoing down the fortress's hallway. Dieck paused, turned, and waited as the archer hurried to join him. "I lost sight of you during the fighting," he said, short of breath.

"I can't always be following you around and protecting you, Little Master."

"You say that as if you haven't always made me be the one chasing after _you_."

Something seemed to lurch in Dieck's stomach.

"And for the hundredth time, I don't need protecting. I was just worried about you." The younger man was now smiling up at him, relieved.

Again, the lurching feeling. Maybe he had eaten something bad? He shrugged and laughed with attempted nonchalance.

"Well, as you can see I'm fine. Takes more than that to put me out of work."

"A cold will put you out of work if you don't have something more on." The words might have sounded annoying from anyone else, but Klein was clearly speaking from care rather than condescension, and he had a point.

"I'll see if there isn't a cloak they can spare me from the gear we picked up." This seemed to satisfy Klein, who nodded. "Anything else?"

The younger man hesitated, then shook his head. "I thought we might talk, but if you're busy..."

"I am." Actually, Dieck had no pressing matters to attend to, but he clearly wasn't feeling well. His stomach kept turning over, and despite the locale it seemed too hot in this corridor where Klein was. "I'll be taking my leave, then." He started to head back toward the barracks wing he'd been allotted a space in.

"Dieck?"

He paused.

"I'm glad you're safe."

He took a breath, settling his stomach. He really ought to have a word with the cook.

"I plan to stay that way."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short chapter this time

The forests of inner Ilia were thick with trees, snow, and hostile forces. Mostly they were Bern soldiers or mercenaries in that kingdom's employ, but there were opportunistic brigands roaming about as well. Finding a way safely through these hazards was a slow and tricky business, and just as the Etrurian Army emerged from the woods they were beset by one of Ilia's dreaded blizzards.

Everyone was cold, weary, and on edge. Drawing his cloak close about himself, Dieck tried futilely to scan through the whipping snow. Just then, he heard the beating of wings overhead: an enemy rider?! He sprang into a combat stance, sword ready--

"Whoa whoa, it's me, Dieck!"

He let out a sigh as Shanna brought her pegasus down and dismounted. Earlier, she and her sister had been sent ahead to scout, being best suited to deal with the mountainous terrain and knowing something of the lay of the land already.

"So, what's the news?"

The girl's face was grim. "We found several ballistae, so we'll need to be careful of those. If we can get by them, we'll be on Fort Carrhae's doorstep, but it's guarded by Sigune herself." Dieck raised an eyebrow, and Shanna hurried to explain. "She's an amazing pegasus knight-- and deadly. People say she fights like a devil... oof!" Dieck clapped her on the back.

"We'll bring that devil down. We've faced worse."

Shanna smiled weakly. "Thanks..."

"Something else on your mind?"

"It's just... she knew my sister."

"Thea?"

"No, my oldest sister, Juno. They were rivals-- if anyone in Ilia could match Sigune, it'd be her." Shanna's voice was full of pride and admitation. "But Juno would never side with Bern. If Sigune is here to stop us, then Juno... She must be..." Now her voice was trembling.

Dealing with this sort of thing wasn't Dieck's forte, but he tried to look encouraging. "Hey, there's no sense crying yet. Maybe..." He cast about for a hopeful possibility, but being a bit of a pessimist (a realist, he would argue) when it came to matters of war and death, he found nothing comforting to say. He switched tactics. "Where's Thea? Didn't you fly out together?"

"She went to tell Lord Roy and the generals. ...And Sir Zelot. He's... Juno's husband..." That had backfired. Damage control.

"Shanna. I'll pass the message along around here; why don't you go find Thea and this Zelot guy? They won't have given up on your sister so fast, and you shouldn't either."

The girl nodded and rubbed at at her eyes. "Yeah." Remounting and getting airborne again, she looked down at Dieck. "Thanks, Captain." Normally Dieck objected to being called Captain, but he let it go this time. With that, Shanna was off.

Poor kid. Maybe Juno was still alive somewhere, but not knowing had to be tough. Her sisters were her heroes, even if she complained to Dieck about Thea being too strict now and then.

For some reason, maybe because she had mentioned the Etrurian generals, Dieck thought of Klein.

When he was little, the noble had been clearly in awe of his protector, often watching him train and asking eagerly about how his rounds at the arena went. Shanna had probably watched Juno prepare for knighthood with similar admiration. But surely there had been-- was-- more to their relationship than just that; they had probably argued, laughed, consoled each other, and more. Dieck had never truly felt at home with the Reglays despite (or because of) their kindness, and though he had enjoyed having a fan in Klein (fame had been much more alluring at that age, and any acclaim counted) and felt a certain protective affection, he had kept a distance from the boy for the most part.

He hadn't felt that they were brothers even back then, and the idea that Klein might today look up to him the way Shanna did to her sisters was strange and uncomfortable. He had been a glory seeker when he was younger, but he didn't want or need that kind of admiration now. Not only that, but thinking of how the young man kept insisting he was grown and able to fight for himself now, it seemed to Dieck that he no longer _had_ that kind of admiration from him anyway.

...But he had said otherwise, had said he wanted things to be as they were before and for Dieck to be his family. So be it, he thought, and went to spread Shanna's message to the other soldiers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Klein and Thea have a very default-pair kind of support in the games... They're both good units/characters but I don't need that straight shit

Castle Edessa was lively with celebration. Against the odds, the Etrurian Army had made the long march northeast through territory hostile in every way, liberated the castle from the remnant forces of the cowardly Lord Roartz of Bern, and rescued all those he had imprisoned. Klein smiled to see Thea, the leader of an Ilian squadron he had hired back before joining Roy's army, happily reunited with her elder sister Juno. Also crowded about her were Sir Zelot, an esteemed knight who apparently was Juno's husband and rightful lord of this castle, and a younger girl who must have been the little sister Thea had mentioned now and then.

His own little sister was busy tending the wounded (and eager to socialize when she finished), and none of the other generals were in a hurry to do anything other than rest for a bit after the grueling northern campaign, so Klein was free to roam the castle. Wandering away from the halls where most of the people had congregated, he eventually found the person he was searching for sitting by the hearth in a small room probably meant for servants.

The man, who had looked up when he heard Klein's approaching footsteps, grinned and gave a small wave by way of greeting. Klein could feel his own face, stiff from the cold of walking through the unheated castle halls, crease into a smile unbidden.

"You get lost, Little Master?"

"Never. This is precisely where I wanted to be." He sat down next to the Dieck. "It's good to see you again."

The older man snorted. "You're gonna get your nice clothes dirty sitting on the floor."

"Yes, because they certainly aren't already dirty from traipsing about the Ilian wilderness fighting off enemy soldiers at every turn." He laughed lightly, then turned to Dieck with a deadly serious expression. "We really must get everyone's things cleaned while we're here. I never want to try doing laundry in a frozen river again."

Dieck burst out in a loud, barking laugh at this. Once he had collected himself, he leaned back on his arms, looking at the ceiling instead of the man next to him. "It's good to see you too. Figured I'd hear about it if anything'd happened to the Archery General, but I prefer keeping an eye on things myself."

The words filled Klein with warmth as much as the fire in the hearth. "As do I."

"Probably wouldn't've been news if _I'd_ been one of the unlucky ones left in the woods though."

That idea prompted a grimace, but the archer agreed. "Probably not. However, you did say at the border that you intended to stay safe, and you still have to visit m-- my father."

"Gonna hold me to that, huh."

"I wouldn't have asked, otherwise."

For a few minutes they quietly enjoyed the warmth of the fire. It was Klein who broke the silence.

"That girl, Shanna-- she's part of your band isn't she?"

Dieck made an affirmative noise.

"Her sister, the lady of this castle-- she was among those rescued."

"Mm, I saw during the fighting. It's a good thing she made it; don't know how I'd manage if Shanna spent the rest of the war in tears. Bad for morale-- might've been the end of Dieck's Mercenaries, heh."

Klein peered sideways at him, a thought slowly forming in his mind. "What about after the war?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think you'll disband your group when this is done? There'll be plenty of work to be done rebuilding, and even mercenaries must get sick of battle eventually." He tried not to let himself sound too hopeful.

Dieck grunted. "Not me. If the others want to go rebuild, they can. I'll be swinging a sword till the day I die." The words fell heavily on Klein's ears. "I'll make sure to visit the Lord and Lady first, of course," the swordsman added, then asked: "So, how about you and Thea?"

The question was unexpected. "Excuse me?"

"She's a mercenary too, right? Ilian knight and all. What's she gonna do after this?"

"I don't know, I'm no longer her employer. What she does is her own choice."

Dieck gave him a strange look. "That so."

"...Still, it _is_ my fault she became involved in this-- I could recommend her to any of the great houses who lost their retainers, make sure she's financially secure..." It was hard to think about the matter with that _look_ Dieck was still giving him. Why was he asking about Thea anyway, because her sister was one of his band? But that had nothing to do with _him_. Mercifully, Dieck looked away at last, and they lapsed into silence again.

In the light of the fire, Klein could see the scars on the other man's body (his cloak was only loosely draped on his shoulders now, and beneath it was no shirt-- why did he never wear shirts?) clearly, the ridges and valleys of discolored skin casting long shadows. Though there had been scars back then, too, there were now many more than 13 years ago. Some, Klein noticed, didn't look like the type that came from battle. They looked... crueler.

"Sorry, I know I'm not a pretty sight."

The deep voice snapped Klein out of his thoughts and he realized he had been staring.

"Oh, no I don't think-- I didn't mean--"

Dieck waved his protestations away, unbothered, then stood up. "Its getting on. Lot and Wade are probably gonna cause a scene if they can't find me."

Klein also stood and was going to follow the other man, but he shook his head. "You go that way. It'll get you to the main hall faster."

"Then let's both go this way."

"Little Master, the point is to arrive separately," Dieck said with a short laugh.

"Dieck..."

The mercenary held up both hands in a gesture of innocence. "Just looking out for my 'brother'." Klein could feel his face flush at the word, but Dieck appeared not to have noticed.

"Fine. But will you agree to something for me?" Klein took the lack of reply as a yes. "Let's try not to let it be so long until we see each other next time, alright? I... prefer you to be nearby." He cleared his throat. "When there's fighting, I mean. It's tactically advantageous, and as we agreed earlier it's easier to keep an eye on each--"

"Yeah, sure."

"--other, should anything-- what? Really?" He had been expecting another line about keeping up appearances or his future or the like.

"Yeah. But this isn't the battlefield, so get going. Don't worry, I'm not gonna disappear overnight or anything." From his expression, Klein could tell Dieck knew the weight those words held to him. He nodded.

"I'll be seeing you then. Soon."

"Soon."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mainly just to set up for the next one. I hope people are enjoying it so far!
> 
> p.s. I use the term "mage" very loosely in this, to refer to all magic-capable units basically.
> 
> p.p.s. seriously, i know it's possible in the games but using a bow & arrows to break down a wall would. not work. story written accordingly!

"Look out!"

The wind was knocked out of Dieck as Klein hit him with a leaping tackle which sent them both tumbling. A split second later, a column of unearthly purple light engulfed the spot where he had been standing and trying to hack a way through walls of the underground ruins they were in. Without missing a beat, Klein sprang back up and fired a volley of arrows through the hole the mercenary had opened. A strangled gurgle followed by the thud of a body hitting the stone floor told them the arrows had found their mark.

Dieck stood up, regaining his breath. "Thanks," he muttered, eyeing the partially destroyed wall warily. "There's too many goddamn mages down here! And too many walls."

He hefted his sword and gave the wall a few more solid strikes, knocking away brick and mortar until there was an opening large enough for them to pass through. Klein, who had a sniper's trained eyes, glanced through the gap before signaling to Dieck that it was safe to proceed.

Stepping over the dead mage on the other side, they examined the new corridor. It was much the same as the one they had just broken through, and the one before that: long, narrow, and without any doors or openings. They would have to force their way through once again.

Dieck swore.

"Why are we down here in this joker's maze anyway?"

"What was that?"

Klein was examining the walls for signs of recent and hastily laid brick. The Bern forces who had fled into the ruins had tried to seal up all the paths behind them, and Roy had sent several small groups to break in from various points, hoping to increase their chances of finding a way through the twisting ruins. "Ah, here!"

Klein waved to Dieck over to a shoddy-looking section of the wall, and the swordsman obligingly began to hew away at the obstacle.

"I said why are we--" he grunted between sword strokes, "down here anyway? These cowards-- don't seem worth it!"

Dieck wasn't in the habit of questioning orders, but his orders were normally to attack people, not walls. They had encountered a few mages, but always hiding behind the walls and out of reach of Dieck's blade. He didn't care for magical combat in the best of times, and now even his easy temper was wearing thin.

Klein, his weapon and build wholly unsuitable for breaking through the walls, was yet in a patient mood.

"Lord Roy believes there may be another sacred weapon hidden here."

"What do we need with 'sacred' weapons? A blade'll cut through a man whether it's been blessed or not." Dieck paused and wiped his brow. "And what do you mean, 'another'?"

His companion gave him a look of genuine surprise. "They aren't _for_ cutting through _men_ , they're for cutting through _dragons_. The weapons used by the heroes of the Scouring-- Lord Roy has been working to obtain them all for some time, don't you remember? At the fire caves, or in Nabata, or the Tower of Elimine, or--"

"Alright, alright, but it's the first I've heard of it. You might be privy to the princeling's plans, but some of us are expected to just go where we're ordered and kill who we're told to."

It seemed Klein had not considered this, and he said nothing but only looked chagrined. Dieck carried on.

"Are there so many dragons in the world that we really need these?"

He had faced scant few himself, and had heard only a handful of other soldiers speak of similar encounters: whirling flame, white teeth, scales that deflected all but the strongest attacks. Weapons made for the task would have helped, but so far they had managed to fell the creatures without them.

"Maybe not. But, rumor has it King Zephiel is creating an army of them back in Bern, and Princess Guinevere says there may be an even worse beast lurking in Zephiel's shadow."

Dieck let out a low whistle. "Nasty business if there's any truth to it."

"Yes... but I'm sorry, I didn't realize you didn't know--"

"It's fine, not like there's any need to tell me when I'll never use one of these sacred weapons myself anyway. Legends like that are for princes or people with the blood of ancient heroes or the like." He scoffed.

The look on Klein's face as he gazed at the mercenary was not pity-- Dieck wouldn't have been able to stand it if it had been, he thought, not from him-- but more like... longing.

"Anyone who is asked to risk his life deserves to know why he does so. As for the sacred weapons, I was of the impression that 'worthiness' mattered as much as 'bloodlines' in such tales. You, Dieck, are as worthy a man as any hero of legend."

The swordsman's face burned red, and he was thankful for the obscuring gloom of the underground chamber. How could Klein say such things with a straight face? He meant it, too; there was that telltale gleam in his eyes.

Dieck turned back to the wall he had been working at. He paused. There were footsteps coming from the other side, and not muffled in a mage's robes this time.

"Brace yourself, we're not alone," he warned.

Quickly, Klein stepped back and knocked an arrow to his bow, drew it taut. Dieck raised his blade and struck though the wall with all his might. He hadn't come here for legends, he had come here for combat, and now at last he would have it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dieck's story in this chapter is a ref to his B support with Lot, for anyone curious

When Dieck, Klein, and the rest who had gone into the underground chamber energed, sacred weapon having been retrieved, the swordsman and archer parted ways. Dieck went to see the supplymaster Merlinus about a replacement for the blade he had thoroughly damaged cutting through the ruin's walls, and Klein followed Roy to a war council.

With Etruria and Ilia both free of invading forces and Princess Guinevere giving her approval, it seemed the time was upon them to turn toward Bern itself. They had received reports that Zephiel's soldiers had been driven out of Sacae, too, thanks to the efforts of a tribal leader named Dayan. Dayan now offered safe passage through the plains and reinforcements to Roy's army, so they would be able to move directly south to Bern after one last night in Edessa. The council was adjourned and announcements made to the troops.

Dieck was in one of the castle's training rooms getting a feel for his new sword, cutting the air and judging the blade's weight and balance, when Klein interrupted him. He sheathed the sword and strolled over.

"Didn't expect to see you again today."

Klein ignored this. "You'll have heard that we march for Bern tomorrow. This will be the last stage of the war, most likely."

The observation was met with a shrug. "I'll believe it when Zephiel's dead."

"Dieck!" the archer hissed in shock, but then admitted, "...it may well come that. The princess of course prays her brother will step down quietly, but... expects he will not."

After an awkward pause, the swordsman asked, "So did you come here just to tell me news i already heard?"

Klein shook his head.

"No, but even going through Sacae it is some distance to Bern. To reach it as soon as Lord Roy intends, our pace will be brisk and the days long. There may not be another chance for us to take our time and simply talk for a while."

"Was there something on your mind?" Dieck moved toward a bench as he spoke, sitting down heavily. More gracefully, Klein took a seat next to him, and he found himself acutely aware of how much smaller the bench was when two people were sharing it.

"Not as such, I just thought we might... talk about you?"

If he had been drinking, Dieck would have spat. As it was, he feigned a cough to cover his surprise at the suggestion. "What's there to say?" he muttered when he had regained his composure.

"My standing requires my deeds and background be known," explained the younger man. "Though we spent 13 years apart, what I did in that time-- attend my studies, join the military, become Etruria's Archery General-- these things are no secret. But I know nothing of how the years passed with you."

"You know I took work as a sellsword."

"But for who? Where? How long have you been working with the others?" Klein's eyes were bright with curiosity. Was it really that interesting?

He never been this nosy when he was younger, thought Dieck. One of the many things that had changed, not that he found he minded it.

"Whoever paid me, wherever things took me, and this group? Hard to say... most of my men come and go, only Wade an' Lot have stuck around. And there's Shanna; just joined up a year ago but the boys all love her. Company baby."

"'This group'...? Then you were part of other companies before?" Shit. Klein had latched onto the one point he least wanted to discuss. Excitedly, the archer continued. "How were they compared to your current group? Did you see many-- what's wrong?"

Ah, _shit_. Dieck hadn't realized he was _that_ easy to read. Or maybe Klein was just perceptive-- goddamn impressive sniper vision. The mercenary scratched his head awkwardly.

"I, uh. I _was_ part of a different group before, a bigger one. Pretty good group, I guess. Things went badly with 'em though."

This appeared to puzzle the archer. "It's hard to imagine anyone being unsatisfied with you. Your work, that is."

"Oh, the lord that hired us was plenty satisfied. _He_ got out without a scratch, after all." Might as well explain it. "He was using us to buy himself time to escape from his enemies, but he didn't let _us_ in on that point. Sent us right into a trap."

"Then what you said earlier about being expected to follow orders..." Klein's voice was hushed.

"Part of the job, right? Perfect throwaway soldiers. And since we didn't know the lord's plans, I wasn't able to tell his enemies anything of where he'd fled to."

"They captured you?" The archer's voice was barely above a whisper now. "How did you escape?"

Dieck laughed humorlessly. "I didn't! They threw me out. If you torture a man enough and he still doesn't talk, there's no point keeping him around, right? Guess they figured I wouldn't last long after all that."

He saw Klein's eyes dart to the scars he had been staring at the other day, then hurriedly focus on a nondescript corner of the room instead. "I'm so sorry, I..."

"Save your pity. I'm sitting here now while everyone else I was with back then is growing grass."

This was why he hadn't wanted to mention it. It was one thing to tell his men; they needed to know what this life could be like now and then. But to someone like Klein it would just be a pathetic sob story, and the last thing he wanted was to see the young man look at him with--

"Pity?"

The clear voice so close to him would have been startling on its own, but combined with the gentle touch of Klein's hand on his, it was all Dieck could do not to leap right up off the bench. Though they had already been sitting side-by-side, the archer had leaned in even closer and was now gazing earnestly up at him. He would've sworn, but found he couldn't summon any words to his mouth. He also couldn't look away.

"I would never pity you. I'm only sorry such men as that 'lord' still draw breath. And I'm... ashamed." Klein drew back away from the swordsman, hand lingering just a moment longer. Dieck let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, and willed his voice not to betray how fast his heart was still beating.

"Of what, being highborn? Someone's gotta be on top in this world." Klein looked displeased, but said nothing. "And I'm lookin' to make money, not get killed, but there are _some_ decent nobles out there. Lords I wouldn't mind fighting and dying for. Take Roy, or Lord Pent."  _Or you_.

For some reason, this seemed to please the archer even less.

"You respect my father a great deal, don't you?" He had pulled away even further, as much as the small bench allowed for. "Or you feel deeply indebted to him. Either way, it was for the sake of _his_ reputation you left our house, and it was _him_ you promised to visit. Is it also for his sake you've put up with my following you around? Because I'm his son?"

The words cut. Maybe,  _maybe_  the assessment would have been accurate at first, but not anymore. Not for a long time now.

It was an acceptable excuse though.

"Is that so bad?"

Apparently it was. The younger man stood up in a way that Dieck would have described as "angrily" if it weren't for the sadness on his face.

"I may be a noble but I won't order you or pay you to make you do as I want. And I may be my father's son but I won't use your regard for him to command you either!"

Klein was shaking a little, Dieck noticed. If he were to reach out and hold him, he could make that shaking stop. He wanted to, he knew with part of his mind, but he did no such thing and instead waited for Klein to continue. "I won't command you. Not to stay by me, or to let me stay by you. But if you chose... I had hoped..."

"To be 'brothers.'"

Klein looked away guiltily at Dieck's words. A bullseye then, thought the mercenary.

"……Only if you choose to be so."

The younger man sighed. His face was flushed from his outburst, eyes still sad, and though a smile would have suited it infinitely better, it was an undeniably beautiful face.

They could never, _ever_ be brothers.

But what the swordsman said as he rose from the bench was,

"Then I choose it."

There was a moment's pause as his answer sank in, then Klein had reached out and taken his hands in his own, grasping tightly. "You'll never get rid of me now," he said with an awkward laugh, "Brother."

That was the idea, thought Dieck.

The tension in the room seemed to have lifted, and they traded stories into the evening, laughing and discussing and learning about each other before finally other matters demanded their attention.

It was worth the lie.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm~
> 
> Actually there's one more chapter before the battle itself but whatever (I hope the pacing isn't too annoying ;; )
> 
> I'm gonna try to post 2 chapters today fyi

The march from Edessa to the Bern border was without incident, but there was an oppressive air hanging over the army that grew heavier and heavier as they went: they knew at the end of their march would likely be a head-on battle against the full force of mightiest military nation in Elibe. Sure enough, when they at last crossed the border and made camp overlooking a broad valley, they could see a red mass of enemy tents and banners coloring the valley's far side. Wyverns circled in the distance. Tomorrow would be a long and bloody day no matter who the victor was.

In his tent, Klein prayed that Clarine would be too busy with healing to test the combat magic she had been studying on the front lines. But that was praying for his own allies to be injured, he realized; that wouldn't do. Still, he wished he had some guarantee that his sister would see the day safely through. His sister, and also...

He stepped out of his tent and began to move purposefully toward those of a certain group of mercenaries. It was already late-- after making camp, there had of course been battleplan finalizations to attend to, and then he had spoken with Clarine for a while-- but a fair portion of the soldiers were still awake with nervous energy. He had only gotten a few yards when he saw a familiar silhouette striding his way.

"Tomorrow's the big day, huh? Thought I'd see how you and the little lady were doing."

Klein smiled. In spite of how he might appear to those who didn't know him, Dieck was a considerate person.

"Looks like we had the same thought. Clarine is well, or as well as anyone can be knowing what tomorrow is likely to bring." He thought for a moment, then added, "She's become quite brave these past months."

"Heh! She never did scare easy, far as I can tell. Don't you tell her I said that though." Dieck stopped a few feet away. "And how're you holding up?"

Klein started to answer, but then turned back toward his tent. "Let's not talk here, I can hardly see your face in front of me. I've a lantern lit inside."

After a slight pause, he heard the other man follow him. Once inside the tent, Dieck made a mildly surprised noise.

"What were you expecting?"

"Dunno. Half thought you'd have your silk bedspreads from home or something." There was a small, comfortable smile playing about his mouth. The two men sat down and Klein set the lantern nearby, casting them in a close, warm light. For just a moment, he was able to forget what he had been so worried about. The moment passed.

"Do you think your men are ready?" He deliberately ignored the still unanswered inquiry into his own preparedness.

"As they'll ever be. Shanna's come a long way, and Lot knows what he's doing. Wade... reckless as ever, but he's made it this far. Guess he's doing _something_ right. The rest'll be fine, they're good men." There was concern and criticism in Dieck's voice, but mainly affection and pride.

"And you?"

"I'm always ready."

"No one's _always_ ready, especially for something like this."

"Yeah, yeah." The swordsman took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He _did_ look calm, in his usual unflappable way, even with the largest battle of the war looming.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Look like everything's fine when you could die tomorrow."

As Klein said it, the reality of the words sank in, like a cold and heavy iron cage about him. They had both made it this far, but they had never seen a battle like _this_. The _continent_ had never seen a battle like this since the days of legend, at least as far as Klein knew.

Without opening his eyes, Dieck replied, "I'll make sure you don't." He _would_ say that. Normally his casual sureness was something Klein loved, but here, now, saying _that_ and all it implied-- it only made his heart sink further.

"You aren't listening, Dieck." The man opened one eye, peering at him questioningly. "I don't-- I _do_ fear death, I admit, but Clarine's or _yours_ a hundred times more than my _own_." His voice was steady; it wasn't the kind of fear that made a person tremble but rather the kind that made everything feel not quite real and all too real at once.

The swordsman's eyes were both open now.

"Sounds like you should be a bit more concerned with yourself."

"You're one to talk."

They stared at each other for a minute, neither backing down. Finally, Dieck spoke.

"'You'll never get rid of me now, Brother.' That's what you said, right?"

The same strange mixture of happiness and inexplicable, longing sadness he had felt when Dieck at last accepted him as a brother washed over Klein again as he heard his own words repeated back to him.

"Yes, that's right."

"Well, same goes for me. So just worry about yourself, alright?" He looked aside. "And I'm sure Clarine'd sooner deck the Saint herself than leave you behind."

"That's bordering on blasphemous," Klein said, smiling despite himself.

"I know." Dieck looked back at him, and his own expression eased when their eyes met. "Feeling better?"

"Mm."

"Good. Then get to sleep, you'll be no use tomorrow if you can't shoot straight." He stood and moved toward the exit. Hurriedly, Klein stood as well.

"Wait, why don't..."  _you spend the night here?_

He paused mid sentence. Would that be strange? He had stayed with Clarine some nights when she was afraid, as a child. But he wasn't a child, and he didn't need to be comforted more; Dieck's assurances had been enough. It just might be... pleasant to fall asleep next to the other man. _Or holding him_ , a very small voice in the back of his mind suggested, _but that wouldn't be very 'brotherly,' would it?_  

Without letting himself consider where the thought had come from in the first place, he ignored it. In any case, he could only push Dieck's tolerance of him so far.

"...Why don't I walk you back?"

"Heh! My eyes aren't so much worse than yours that I can't find my own way. Sleep, General."

The tall man was gone before Klein could say anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worry the way I write Klein's cluelessness about what he himself wants is a bit unbelievable but... if you grow up not even thinking something exists or is remotely possible you can be like that :\
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment about it or anything else if you have anything to say!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I posted 2 chapters today so if you missed ch10 go read that first)
> 
> This chapter contains a slightly altered version of Klein and Elffin's A support, and also the implied relationships in the tags (Erk is kiiinda like an adopted son to Pent and Louise, and one of his possible endings is to use their leverage to marry into nobility via Priscilla; in this story that's what happened.)
> 
> p.s. Klein calls Elffin something else in the fan translation, like "my lord" or "majesty" something (I forget) but the correct title for princes/princesses is "highness" so that's what I used

In the not-quite-darkness of predawn, Klein checked and rechecked his equipment. When at last he was satisfied, he left to get his share of breakfast.

Others were also shuffling toward the cookpits and supply train, and one man fell into step next to Klein. It was the bard Elffin, a man as skilled tactically as he was musically (and his music was sublime enough to reinvigorate the weariest soldier). To be one of Lord Roy's most trusted advisors would be strange for a normal bard, but then Elffin was no normal bard: to a select few in the army he had eventually revealed himself to be none other than Mildain, the Etrurian crown prince presumed dead after a poisoning attempt a year earlier.

Klein was still chagrined that he hadn't realized sooner, and uncomfortable whenever he had to pretend his own prince was no more than a wandering musician. He made the smallest bob of his head that his conscience could allow.

"Highness."

His voice was low, a precaution against the other soldiers walking with them.

"Good morning, General," the prince responded at a normal volume, then also lowered his voice to continue. "Did you sleep well?"

"Huh? Uh, quite well, Highness."

"I myself was restless last night, and took a walk to calm myself. I saw something interesting, you know." It went without saying that things were strange when a prince pretended to be a bard, but this was the strangest conversation Klein had had with him yet. "Tell me, who was that I saw leaving your tent at such a late hour?"

The question was asked in the most innocent of tones, but sent a chill down the archer's back. Recovering himself, he replied; there was nothing to hide, after all.

"That was... my brother."

"Brother? You have no brother I know of, unless we consider Lord Caerleon, and even he's more of a... cousin, shall we say? Perhaps this is the fault of the darkness, but the man looked like a sellsword, not a man of books as Lord Caerleon is known to be. And maybe my eyes have not yet recovered fully from my blindness, but I seem to have seen you in the company of that same sellsword many times on the field of battle-- perhaps off of it, too."

"Your eyes did not fail you, Highness, he is a mercenary who has been hired by Lord Roy and I trust none more beside me, in combat. And, he is my brother." He tried to sound as confident as their whispered conversation would allow.

"You surprise me, Klein. And here I thought you hadn't changed a bit." The prince moved away from the main path, and the archer obligingly followed suit. The other soldiers passed by them, unnoticing. Now Klein and Mildain could speak a bit more freely.

"Highness?"

"Do you remember how you used to often come to the palace with your father?" The sudden change of topic would have thrown Klein off, had the conversation not already been so unusual.

"Yes... visits to the palace are one of my earliest memories."

"I remember thinking how cute a child you were. As I had no siblings myself, and was still young and careless, I told your father, 'Your son shall now be my brother. He must live in the palace from now on.'" The prince smiled with fond amusement at the memory.

"You said that?" Klein felt he had begun to grasp the thread of the prince's thinking, but couldn't yet see where it led. Neither could he remember the incident being described.

"Oh yes, I was a fool. And your father, poor man, didn't know what to say. But then you spoke up."

"I did…?"

"'That will not do!' you said. 'I am going to be your knight, so choose someone else as your brother!'" Mildain seemed on the verge of laughter; Klein was white as a sheet.

"…I-I was so rude… I… forgive me, Your Highness…"

"Pay it no mind. Anyway, after the attempt on my life, everything and everyone seemed different... When I revealed myself to you and you insisted on calling me 'Highness' despite my disguise-- to call me otherwise, 'It will not do!' you said, those same words again-- I thought 'Ah, here at least is someone who has not changed.'" He shook his head. "Your honesty and your sense of duty are admirable, Klein."

"Prince Mildain..."

"So now I must wonder, if the difference between a prince and a high-standing noble is too great in your eyes to be bridged by brotherhood, then how is it that that same high-standing noble, now also one of Etruria's four leading generals, finds himself with the lowest class of mercenary for a brother?"

The thread Klein had been following had woven into a snare about his feet: he was caught. Mildain was looking intently at him without malice but with an air of curiousity and knowing-- or at least suspecting -- that made Klein feel exposed.

"He's not lo-- I mean…" He was intensely aware of how very inarticulate he was this morning, in front of the Prince no less. "He… I meant no slight to you, Highness, be sure! …I forgot the encounter you related, though it shames me to admit it…" He tried to swallow his bewilderment and regain some composure. "My apologies. My loyalty is always to you, but I hold that man in the highest regard, and would not-- cannot-- change that. I count myself... very lucky to know him.

If it offends you or the Etrurian court, I," he took a deep breath, "will step down, but I cannot denounce him. If this means you would be better served to have me be a commoner, I will serve you so."

His face was hot with conflicting anxiety and defiance, and other emotions he couldn't sort out. Mildain was-- Mildain was still _smiling_ , he realized, but this time a smile filled with kindness and understanding rather than nostalgia.

"I want no such thing, Klein Reglay. I only wanted to know that my good general was well." He nodded thoughtfully to himself, mysterious and approving. "I suppose there have been 'brothers' before, but such a word doesn't suit you. You were always more direct than that; perhaps that's why you make sure a sure archer. You never _were_ meant for a knight."

Klein wanted to ask what the prince meant, but couldn't manage to form a sentence with all the thoughts spinning in his head.

"Don't worry," Mildain said, touching his arm reassuringly. "Finding each other is the hardest part, and you did. Just like I…" his face lit up, "…found my Knight. The rest will work out." With that, he turned to leave.

"Good luck in battle today, General," Elffin the Bard called behind him. "Make sure to eat before you go."

For a few seconds, Klein only stood there is puzzlement. Putting aside trying to understand the bizarre conversation just yet, he hurried to breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there was the title drop.
> 
> Next time: no talk just fight


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In-game this battle (ch. 21: The Binding Blade) is treated as a Big Deal and I tried to capture that feeling...
> 
> Due to who this story is about we won't be seeing any of the Galle drama though, sorry. It's happening offscreen.

Yesterday, in Lord Roy's war council, Klein had seen at least a dozen different proposals of how they might begin their attack, a dozen responses Bern might make to each of those, and then countermeasures they might take against Bern's countermeasures. Most of the planning went out the window though when, literally as they began to move down from the hills to strike, the bishop Yoder appeared on the scene, claiming he had urgent news for Roy.

One of the head bishops of Elimine in Aquleia, Yoder had met with Roy and the army before when the Etrurian capital was retaken and had spoken of the church's concerns regarding King Zephiel's use of dragons. Apparently while the army was in Ilia, enough information was gathered by the church's eyes and ears in Bern to confirm their worst fears: Zephiel had not just a handful of dragons at his command, but had revived the Dark Dragon of the Scouring, a beast which could call a limitless army of war dragons into existence. Yoder had since been trying to catch up to the Etrurian army to tell the news.

The first aim of the battle now would not simply be to crush Bern's standing army, but to seize the legendary blade used to stop the Dark Dragon. The shrine built to house the sword lay on the far side of this very valley-- whether Bern's army had chosen this place to make their stand purposely because the king knew the significance of the shrine or whether it was a stroke of divine providence, no one in the Etrurian army could say. Regardless, they would have to cut through the might of Bern to reach the shrine and the sword within.

That had been in the early morning. How many hours had passed since then? It felt more like years to Klein. The waves of men charging toward them, the wyverns that seemed to fill the sky no matter how many he shot down, made it seem as though this valley were some kind of hell with no beginning and no end. Most of his archers had either fallen or become separated from him, and with part of his mind and he grieved their loss, but either because he had lost subordinates before in other skirmishes and become inured to it or because he was too focused on his own survival now, mainly he felt nothing but a sort of blur.

He was no longer trying to make sense of the terrain around him and gauge how far he and the rest of the Etrurian Army had progressed; instead he focused on following the tall, scarred man doggedly pressing on ahead of him. They had been moving nearby to each other when the battle began, and as allies fell and enemies pressed around them they found themselves forced or drawn together until now they were fighting almost as one, struggling desperately onward. While Klein kept the wyverns riders and spellcasters away, Dieck carved a path forward through red-uniformed knights and footsoldiers. There was even one of Zephiel's dragons at one point, eyes burning yellow before two well-placed arrows closed them for good and a heavy sword was forced through its mailed hide.

By now both Klein and Dieck had suffered some injuries-- Klein knew his own were as yet minor, at least, but he wasnt sure for the other man--, and the few healing tinctures they had been able to carry without encumbering themselves had already been used. Any slip-ups at this point could mean the end. But, either there were others who needed treatment more urgently or they had gone out of the reach of their allies' healing magic, for no aid came now. There was also the possibility the healers were all dead-- Klein was vaguely aware that he had seen wyverns in the distance behind him as well as ahead, meaning there had been a surprise attack from the rear-- but the archer didn't allow himself to consider it or what it would mean for his sister.

He kept moving forward.

Eventually, dimly as if seeing through someone else's eyes, he saw a large stone structure glowing in the golden light of the low western sun. It must be late afternoon, he thought, and then, that must be the shrine. There was still noise in the air, but less of it. He realized that most of the red-uniformed men they saw now were dead or fleeing.

Rounding the front of the shrine, there was Lord Roy on the stone steps, and before him Murdock, Zephiel's best general. They seemed about to face each other in single combat, the Etrurian army gathering at the foot of the steps as the survivors arrived but going no further.

Klein was too distracted to see how the duel played out though, for just then Dieck pitched forward, collapsing on the grass in a heap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers:
> 
>  
> 
> he's fine


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a bit of that internalized homophobia mentioned in the tags in this chapter

Something hurt. No, _everything_ hurt. Everything hurt, and it was dark. A blue light filled the air, and the pain was replaced with soothing warmth as fractured bones knit back together, gashes sealed themselves up. All that was left was a dull ache and a bone-deep tiredness.

Dieck opened his eyes, blinking against the light of the setting sun. He saw a flash of golden hair beside him.

"...Klein?" He closed his eyes again, trying to work out where he was. Lying on the grass, it felt like. The battle... something about dragons, had to get to the shrine... the shrine! He remembered seeing it, but nothing after that.

"Hah! And you said I looked nothing like him."

Opening his eyes once more, he turned toward the unmistakable voice.

"Clarine."

"A thank you might be in order but yes, it is I, Cla--"

"Where's Klein?" He must be alive, Dieck reasoned, if Clarine was acting her normal self.

"Busy. You scared him half to death, you absolute cad." Relief was plain on the girl's face even if her words were sharp. "I must have told him you were only exhausted, not in any real danger, at least ten times before he would leave!"

"Leave to where?"

"Lord Roy wanted to press on into the shrine before nightfall. There are likely more enemy forces within, so he gathered some of those still in fighting shape-- after a touch-up from yours truly, of course-- and went in about an hour ago." Clarine gave him a look of begrudging respect and gratitude. "I should thank you for the fact my brother was well enough to be among that group. Here, drink this," she said, passing him a bowl of warm soup.

Now sitting up, Dieck could see the many wounded lying about him on the grass in front the large stone shrine, healers busily moving about administering to them or carrying away those who hadn't made it. Behind the triage area, the able who hadn't gone with Roy had set up camp. Dieck had half a mind to go into the shrine after Roy himself, the worst of his injuries being now healed and the thought of Klein fighting without him being uncomfortable at best, but Clarine had not been understating when she said Dieck was exhausted: he found it was taking all his energy just to sit upright.

The girl had thanked him for taking care of her brother, but that was only half the story. There had been so many-- too many enemies; if Klein hadn't been there at his back to keep a great deal of them from reaching him in the first place, Dieck was sure he would have tired and collapsed somewhere in the middle of the valley rather than here by the shrine. Had that happened, he'd have been woken by a lance to the gut rather than the light of a healing staff, he thought grimly. If he had protected Klein, it was only made possible by Klein protecting him, too.

Trying not to think of what lances or other weapons might be pointed toward the archer at that very moment deep within the shrine, Dieck scanned the wounded for any sign of his men as he drank, but in the gathering dusk he couldn't tell who among the prone forms was who. Clarine had moved on to tend to others, so he couldn't ask her. Soup finished, he lay back down and stared distractedly up at the stars that were beginning to appear in the evening sky. They looked liked Klein's eyes, he thought absently, the way they glittered.

***

Not much later, Dieck heard voices from the direction of the shrine, footsteps on stone. Soon the whole camp was abuzz with awe: Lord Roy had returned with the sword of Hartmut, the Binding Blade. Unlike the other sacred weapons that had been recovered with a level of discretion (it was only later that Dieck learned even at this shrine another had been found besides the Blade), Roy's laying claim to this weapon was triumphant news for all.

"With this sword, we will stop Zephiel and his dragons! With this sword, we will end the war! Tomorrow we leave for the capital!"

After the excitement had died down, the people of the army, tired from the day's vicious fighting but rallied by the prospect of an end to the war, made their way to the their tents, the wounded assisted by healers or friends.

"Can you walk?"

There at last was the person Dieck had been waiting to see, standing over him beautiful and bright-eyed despite blood-stained attire and obvious exertion. For a moment the mercenary just gazed up at his companion with what must have been an idiotic smile before he caught himself.

"Help me get upright and then we'll see."

Klein draped Dieck's left arm over his own shoulders, holding onto his wrist, and set his own right arm against the larger man's back. After some fumbling false starts, they were both standing. Dieck started to pull his arm back, but found the archer refused to let go of his wrist.

"You can let go now."

"And let you fall again? That wouldn't do."

Dieck grumbled an indistinct protest, secretly happy with this arrangement. They trudged along side by side.

"Sorry."

"Sorry?"

"For taking a nap while you and the others were busy digging up that sword." He felt Klein's hand twitch against his back.

"Just don't do it again," came the quiet reply, and after a few more paces, "I would've stayed until you woke up, if I could. I wanted to."

The words sent a pang unrelated to his earlier injuries through Dieck.

"Clarine said you'd be fine, and yet part of me still feared you might... " The hand on his wrist tightened for a moment. "But you wouldn't leave like that. I trust you."

He said it so plainly, so honestly. Dieck's heart twisted to think of how little he deserved or returned that trust. He trusted Klein in battle; that had been earned countless times over. In other matters though... over the years, he had learned the hard way to be cautious. Even if now he wanted to trust the man at his side, could he truly claim to when it was only by hiding and acting on pretense that they walked together?

Dieck had seen enough of the world to know that he was not the only man who might not dream of a pretty _maid_ to go home to, but he was not so foolish as to think Klein shared his inclinations or would want such a person in his House. What might be permissible among nameless pit fighters and traveling sellswords would, as the young noble might say, "not do" for Klein.

There _had_ been things that could give an imaginative man the wrong idea-- looks, touches, words-- but each time Dieck stomped out such thoughts before they could grow to hurt him. No fanciful ideas would take root and deceive him. That Klein saw him as a brother was already more than a nobody like himself could have asked for; as long as that was true, he could be satisfied.

They stopped. The mercenary looked at the canvas shelter in front of them.

"That's not my tent." He had a strong suspicion whose it was.

"I know; it's mine. I didn't have time to find and set up yours as well as my own."

"Could've asked my men."

"Of the three I actually know the faces of, one was laid out worse than you, the second beside himself about the first, and the third tending to a severely overworked pegasus. So, for tonight you'll have to make do here."

At least those three had made it, then-- that was a relief. Dieck didn't play favorites in his company, but that didn't mean he didn't _have_ favorites, though he wouldn't admit it to them. He made a mental note to check on Wade's injuries (it was probably Wade) when he had a chance. As for now... brothers sharing a tent was acceptable, Dieck thought; protesting might make Klein more suspicious than acquiescing. And he wanted this.

He drifted off almost as soon as he was lying down again. Today, he could blame exhaustion, but there was something so comfortable about lying there together in that small space that he thought he might have slept just as easily no matter what. He wouldn't be surprised if he woke up better rested than he'd been in years.

The worst battle of the war was safely past, and he had an excuse to lie beside the person he wanted most to be with. With these pleasant thoughts, it wasn't long until sleep overcame him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Klein finally gets a clue


	14. Chapter 14

In spite of the physical and emotional strain of the day, Klein couldn't sleep. Instead he lay awake, unable to take his eyes off the man lying just a few feet away from him. Like this, he looked so peaceful, a real peace rather than the calm, stoic acceptance of life's hardships that characterized Dieck when he was awake, and the underlying restlessness that seemed to drive him was gone. If he was like this every night, then Klein was jealous of whatever stars or ceilings might have looked down on such a sight before him, envied any companions who might have seen it first.

The story about not having time to find and pitch both tents was the truth, but it still felt as though Klein had tricked or cheated his way into this-- hadn't he just been wishing for it last night? Maybe this was a reward for surviving today's battle. ...No, that they had both survived was its own reward, he thought, remembering the endless red uniforms, red scales, red-slicked steel. The sick dread when Dieck had collapsed, the indescribable gratefulness when he realized the worst had not come to pass.

Without thinking, he reached out in the darkness and lightly took hold of Dieck's near hand. The mercenary did not stir, but his hand was warm and a gentle pulse could be felt. They were both still here, alive, he and his "brother".

_I suppose there have been "brothers" before, but such a word doesn't suit you._

His mind drifted back to the strange conversation with Prince Mildain that morning. _You were always more direct than that._ Though the prince had been... encouraging, not reproachful, and was far too tactful to say such a thing outright, Klein had gotten the distinct impression he was calling him a liar-- both to the prince and to himself.

He frowned in the dark of the tent. He wanted Dieck to stay with him, he knew and admitted that. Why shouldn't he? Even Clarine had said she could understand wanting him around. And Dieck would always see him as a child, a ward, on some level, even after all they had gone through. This, too, he knew and admitted, bitter as it was. So far, no lies. The two of them were close enough for Dieck to accept him as a little brother, at least; this the other man had said himself so it couldn't be counted as a lie on Klein's part.

...Then again, he'd hardly been forthcoming about his dissatisfaction with being seen as such, was even now trying to tell himself it was enough when he knew it was not. He did not want to be a little brother, he wanted to be Dieck's _equal_ , and not just as a soldier but as a _man_. To be silent about this... that must be the lie which Prince Mildain had somehow (the Prince was almost disconcertingly insightful at times) discerned in his heart.

If he told the truth though, then what? By way of analogy, he tried to imagine Clarine deciding that she no longer wanted to be his sister, wanted to leave the House and change her name (the comparison felt... _off_ , but Klein ignored it, reasoning that no analogies were ever perfect and all situations a little different). In such a situation, he would let her, though it would sadden him. However, he would never truly stop caring for her and thinking of her as his little sister.

If Dieck really saw him as a brother, felt that sort of familial bond, then Klein telling him he didn't wish to be seen as such would not actually change things either. On the one hand, it made telling him seem pointless, on the other it meant there was not as much to fear as he had thought. Dieck was patient, and kind, and would accept his "little brother" even if he said strange things. Klein might not be able to get what he wanted, but he could be truthful and still have... familiarity, at least, with the mercenary.

_The rest will work out._

That was what the Prince had said, and as he gazed through the darkness at Dieck's peaceful sleeping form Klein believed it. He trusted the mercenary. Resolving to address the matter soon, Klein was able to quiet his thoughts at last, and was nearly asleep when a loose end at the back of his mind pestered him awake again.

The Prince hadn't just been speaking about Klein's situation, he had compared it to his own. _Finding each other is the hardest part, and you did. Just like I found my Knight._ Who and what did he mean by that? The look on his face made Klein sure he wasn't simply teasing the archer about what he had (supposedly) said about becoming a knight as a child. He considered.

Being a prince, Mildain had countless knights, or at least used to have them before he was poisoned and went into hiding. Did he mean someone he had "found" again in the time since then? The only people who both knew "Elffin" now and had known "Mildain" before were himself and the other Etrurian generals: Douglas the Great General, Cecelia the Sorcery General, and Perceval the... Knight General. Ah. That answered the _who_ , but not the what, the why.

Perceval was an exemplary knight and unquestionably loyal to the Prince, someone Klein considered a friend and role model as one of the Etruria's four generals, but he was stern to the point that Klein almost wondered if he could even laugh or cry anymore, and unbending in his military and political views even when flexibility would be helpful. In his defense of Mildain, he could be suspicious and act rashly, taking a "guilty until proven innocent" view of those who could pose a threat to the prince.

All in all, he was nothing like Dieck. For that matter, Klein himself was not much like the Prince; why had he compared their situations? And convincing Perceval to fight for Roy's army hadn't been particularly different than convincing the other Generals, so why was it him specifically that Mildain spoke of "finding"?

Klein closed his eyes and tried to remember any clues he had missed. Nothing new stood out, just the baffling words and the Prince's face, which he remembered as being unusually happy and bright. Mildain was far from joyless but he was a subdued sort, Elffin even moreso, and when he did smile it was like the sun through clouds. When speaking of his "knight" though, he had beamed like a summer sun at noon in a clear blue sky. It was an expression Klein had seen before, elsewhere... never directed at himself, but somehow a look he knew well...

His eyes snapped open.

It was the way he remembered his parents looking at each other.

It was love, and _not_ the sort one held for family or friends or country. The look on Prince Mildain's face as he spoke of Perceval, the Knight General, had been _love_ , and he had implied-- Klein, toward Dieck--

He realized that he was still holding the other man's hand, and he snatched his own back as though it had been burned. The tent suddenly felt far too small, stiflingly so.

He remembered the Prince's knowing smile, the strange encouragement. _Finding each other is the hardest part._ He thought of Dieck and the way he wanted more than anything for the mercenary to see him, truly _see_ him, _be with_ him. As a man. Brotherhood had never been enough. Perceval and Mildain. Dieck and himself. The lie the Prince had seen, the lie Klein was telling himself.

Any resolution he had made to speak to Dieck evaporated. Nothing he _felt_ had changed, but everything was different.

It was a long time before he finally fell into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> congrats Klein you figured it out you're gay


	15. Chapter 15

The next day, the tiredness of battle had vanished from Dieck's body and, with no lingering injuries, he felt invigorated. He thought nothing unusual of Klein's absence from the tent went he awoke, presuming the younger man had risen early and considerately let him sleep a bit longer rather than turn him out. Stretching, he rose and left to collect his own gear from the convoy and get ready for the day's march.

When they stopped to eat or rest, he also saw no sign of the archer, but again it was not strange as their positions when marching were far from each other. When they made camp that evening, Dieck spent the small amount of free time catching up with those of his men who had survived (surprisingly, it was Lot who had been badly injured, not Wade, but the healers had done their work well and he was nearly recovered) before turning in for the night.

The morning of the second day of the march, Dieck spotted Klein briefly at breakfast, but he seemed distracted and was gone before the mercenary had a chance to ask if something was the matter. He remained scarce the rest of the way to the capital, which Dieck tried to reason away as simple busyness, but it felt stranger than he thought it would to not have the young man turning up now and then the way he usually did if given half a chance.

Roy's troops entered the city with no resistance. The main army of Bern having been weakened throughout the war and finally quelled at the Battle of the Shrine, the only military presence in the city was King Zephiel's personal guard at the castle. The common people, for their part, either turned out to cheer Princess Guinevere's return or hid in their houses not wanting to be involved. One last request for Zephiel to surrender to Etruria and cede the throne to Guinevere peacefully was refused, and now Roy's army prepared to storm the castle.

In the city's main square, soldiers busily checked their arms and armor, made last-minute prayers, and divvied up healing salves and tinctures. Dieck was making sure his sword belt was secure when he saw a golden-haired archer walking toward him through the surrounding people. He was about to greet him, but the other man spoke first with no preamble.

"I've come to show you where you're to go once we're inside." Klein held out a plan of the castle. "You'll head up a group of your sword- and axemen to clear this corridor and cover for our mages, who will focus on..."

Dieck listened attentively as Klein continued, but couldn't help noticing how distant he seemed, how his normally clear eyes were clouded with anxiety. A person would have to be blind to miss it, he thought.

Instructions relayed, the young general folded up the floorplan and turned to leave. Dieck caught him by the arm, lightly yet causing him to flinch in what was probably surprise.

"Hey," the swordsman tried to sound reassuring, sympathetic. "I know why you're on edge."

Klein froze up. "Oh?"

"Killing a king is a big deal no matter how you look at it. I don't like it, and I can't imagine it's easy for a proper noble like you to stomach. But it has to be done. It's the right thing."

In his grip, Dieck felt the archer slump a little before turning to face him with a forced smile.

Not good enough. He tried again.

"After this the war'll be over, remember? You and your sister can go home, I can make that visit we talked about."

This prompted only a strained nod. Dieck tried to figure out what further anxiety could be hidden behind those should-be shining eyes, but Klein gave no clue. Out of ideas, the mercenary said simply,

"It'll work out."

For some reason, those words seemed to spark something. Klein blinked, looking mildly startled, then nodded again with what was this time a real smile. He still looked vaguely sad, but clarity had returned to his indigo eyes. He took a deep breath.

"You're right. Thank you." Where a moment ago he had been troubled and uncertain, he now looked resolved. "There's something I need to tell you, but now isn't the time. After, I promise."

Before Dieck could grasp what was happening, the warm weight of a body was pressed against him, slim but muscular arms wrapped about him in an tight embrace.

"Let's end this war," Klein murmured.

As suddenly as it had happened, it was over. It was all Dieck could do to call out a "You too" in response to Klein's parting "Good luck" before the general had disappeared into the mass of other soldiers.

***

In the throne room of Bern Castle, fire and lightning flashed. As sharp and brilliant as they had been centuries ago, Ekesachs and the Binding Blade, the two swords of the legendary hero Hartmut, rang out against each other. The Young Lion of Pherae fought valiantly, but Zephiel was a mountain of a man and Ekesachs a blade to match. He raised his weapon for a last, crushing blow--

\--and the Lion lunged, driving thin steel between seams in dark-tinted armor.

The war for Elibe was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The war is over! But the story is not. Next time: angst is in the tags for a reason


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we get to the angst part of "angst with a happy ending"

The Etrurian army aided the staff of Castle Bern in cleaning up after the turbulent events of the day. Dieck was one of those asigned to move the guards' bodies out of the throne room and hallways to the castle chapel, where local priests and sisters were blessing and identifying them, preparing messages to families. The Church of Elimine was not as strong in Bern as in Etruria, and had weakened more under Zephiel, but it still had a sizable presence. The King's body had been moved to a private room, where Guinevere was grieving while a space was prepared in the royal mausoleum.

The princess had opened the castle and all its facilities to the Etrurian army, but after his allotted work was done Dieck opted to find a stream near the city's edge to wash off the day's grime in rather than use the castle's chambers. After redressing, he lingered on the bank, watching the water. Killing was his business, not dealing with whatever came next, and he was not eager to return to the city yet.

He had not been sitting there long when, in a now characteristic way, Klein showed up. Dieck hadn't told anyone where he was going, but Klein always seemed to find him. It was reassuring, after the strange avoidance during the past few days. He glanced at the young man as he sat down next to him.

"We won."

"Mm."

Silence. They both stared out at the rippling stream.

"You had something to tell me?"

"Yes. An apology."

"For what?"

"I lied to you."

There was that directness, that open honesty about him that Dieck admired. Loved. But what Klein was saying didn't make sense.

"Lied? You?" Dieck snorted. Was he joking? Klein could deadpan pretty well when he wanted to, but not lie. He didn't, maybe _couldn't_ lie.

"I... I led you to believe I felt a certain way, because I thought that was what you wanted. I thought it would be easier that way."

A cold, clawing feeling set into Dieck's gut. This was no joke.

"I lied to myself, which made me lie to you."

"Klein, what are you--"

"I don't want you to be my brother. I never did."

The cold claws gripping at Dieck's insides yanked. If he hadn't already been seated, he felt he would have been knocked over.

"I don't believe you."

Why would Klein have lied about that? Why would he have lied at _all_? The swordsman's thoughts raced frantically for an answer while at the same time not wanting to know what it might be. If Klein had been lying to him, nothing could be trusted.

"It's the truth."

"Then what the _hell_ were you doing this whole time? Following me around, fighting together, talking about-- what the hell was _any_ of that?!"

Dieck did not have a quick temper, but now his low voice could barely hold all his anger, transmuted fear and suspicion. He had turned to look at Klein, and he didn't know what his own face must look like but it made the younger man flinch away. To his credit though, the determined look in his eyes did not waver.

"I thought it was what you wanted," Klein said again, "and if it kept you near me... "

"' _Kept me near_ ' you? What does _that_ \--"

Suddenly, it all fell into place: a bodyguard.

Klein had wanted to _keep him near_  because how else could he do his job, serve his purpose? When the Little Master joined Roy's faction and reencountered his childhood servant, he must have decided the war was just _too_ dangerous not to take advantage of an old connection. Dieck had been welcome in the Reglays' home in the past, so _surely_ he would happily jump at the chance to serve them once more even without compensation, gratefully bowing and scraping after the prompting of a few kind words. House Reglay was hardly pressed for funds, but _it would be easier that way._

"...So that was it. _That's_ the sort of person Klein Reglay is." A look of bitter understanding passed between the mercenary and the young noble.

"Yes."

He didn't even try to deny it.

"You weren't going to pay me or command me to do what you wanted, just trick me into it." And it had worked, too.

Dieck was a careful man; how had he let himself been so deceived? One of the most basic rules of the mercenary life was never to work for free. He _knew_ that, and yet here he'd let this... this _boy_ and his pretty words and his goddamn pretty _face_ get him to work harder than he ever had, for nothing more than the "privilege" of being near him and calling him a "brother". Roy was paying him, true, but it was _Klein_ he'd really been fighting for once the archer had strolled into camp. It was Klein he had foolishly believed might see him as more than a walking sword and disposable shield, even if he would never see him the way he wanted to be seen. It was Klein he would've died for in a heartbeat.

He was such an idiot.

"Why tell me now? You thought it wouldn't _matter_ anymore?" The war was over; the rich child no longer needed a personal guard.

Dieck was standing now, and Klein had risen too, not looking away. There were tears in those stupid, beautiful eyes. The kid could put on a show, that was for sure. He probably thought he has done nothing wrong. _I thought it was what you wanted_.

Spoiled brat.

" _Yes!_  Yes, I had hoped-- believed-- I knew once I told you the truth you weren't going to _throw_ yourself at me or anything but I thought you would at least..."

"Stick around for old times' sake? Just how highly do you think of yourself!? I may owe a debt to your father, but there's limits to that." If Klein had just admitted from the start that he was like every other noble, if he had just given him a contract instead of smiles and talk of "brotherhood", it wouldn't have stung so badly. Dieck knew he was nothing in any noble's eyes-- he surely knew it now, if he had ever let himself forget it-- but he still thought himself worth a few coins, at least. Never work for free. But... "At this point? You couldn't _pay_ me to stay with you. Even people like _me_ have _some_ self-respect."

Klein was trembling, but his gaze remained steady.

"I'm sorry."

"Can it." Dieck grabbed his boots from where they were lying on the bank. "I'm going back. You can follow me-- I don't need Roy firing me for losing one his generals in the woods-- but I don't want to see you after that. Got it?"

Klein nodded silently.

"Good. Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, miscommunication


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Internalized homophobia is big in this chapter :\
> 
> Same events as previous chapter, but Klein's POV
> 
> It's gonna stay angsty for a bit please bear with me it WILL have a happy ending though

Prince Mildain was a shrewd man, and his tactical advice to Roy had been invaluable. His words to Klein, on the other hand, proved disastrous.

"I don't want you to be my brother. I never did."

"I don't believe you."

Klein could hardly blame Dieck for that. Though it was the mercenary who had seen him as a little brother, it was Klein who had played along and insisted Dieck explicitly acknowledge him as such. He had thought any acknowledgement, any solid tie to Dieck was better than none, but in the end he had only created more problems.

"It's the truth."

"Then what the _hell_ were you doing this whole time? Following me around, fighting together, talking about-- what the hell was _any_ of that?!"

Dieck's voice was not loud, but its loaded tone cut into Klein sharper than any sword, and his face was dark with anger, confusion, suspicion.

Oh, Saint. He knew.

"I thought it was what you wanted," Klein said, "and if it kept you near me..." He had thought he could both play the part of "little brother" and satisfy his own desires at the same time. Clearly though, those desires had been deeper than he himself had realized, more than he could hide, and now Dieck was putting the pieces together.

"' _Kept me near_ ' you? What does _that_ \--" A look of sudden comprehension filled the other man's face, followed immediately by disappointment and scorn. Disgust.

He knew. He knew.

"...So that was it. _That's_ the sort of person Klein Reglay is."

Dieck knew, and he was sickened. Klein wanted to look anywhere other than at him, but he would not be a coward. He wouldn't give the man another reason to hate him.

"Yes."

There was no point in denying it. This was what he'd come here to say.

"You weren't going to pay me or command me to do what you wanted, just trick me into it."

He had never meant to trick Dieck-- you couldn't trick a person into loving you, _actually_ loving you any more than you could pay or command them to-- but that was what it had become, wasn't it? He had tried, and failed, to trick both Dieck and himself. He was never one for dissembling.

"Why tell me now? You thought it wouldn't _matter_ anymore?" Both men had risen to their feet, and Dieck seemed to tower like a dark cloud over the younger man.

" _Yes!_ " Klein felt tears pricking at his eyes despite himself. "Yes, I had hoped-- believed--" _I trusted you._ "I knew once I told you the truth you weren't going to _throw_ yourself at me or anything but I thought you would at least..." _understand, somehow, even if you didn't return the feelings._ What _man_  would, though?

By Elimine, he had been naive. Trust? No, he hadn't _trusted_ Dieck. He had just lied to himself again because he wanted to pretend things would be alright. Because the Prince had said some confusing things. Because he, Klein Reglay, was young, and stupid, and had something very wrong with him.

"Stick around for old times' sake? Just how highly do you think of yourself!? I may owe a debt to your father, but there's limits to that. At this point? You couldn't _pay_ me to stay with you." The idea alone made Klein's stomach turn. He wanted him, but not like that, never by doing  _that_. It probably didn't make a difference to Dieck though; it was disgusting either way. So Klein said nothing. "Even people like _me_ have _some_ self-respect."

How ironic, Klein thought, that the mercenary had once worried about being a cause for unsavory rumors to be spread about House Reglay, when the unsavory one had been the House's own son and heir all along.

He felt himself shaking, but managed to keep his voice even and reply simply,

"I'm sorry."

There was nothing else to say.

"Can it. I'm going back. You can follow me-- I don't need Roy firing me for losing one his generals in the woods-- but I don't want to see you after that. Got it?"

He nodded numbly.

"Good. Let's go."

In a borrowed room at Bern Castle, Klein curled up on a small bed, still fully dressed, reliving the scene over and over in his mind. The rest would work out? No, Prince Mildain had been wrong, so very wrong. So wrong it hurt.

Or maybe he had misunderstood the Prince's words and expression; the hasty midnight deductions of a battle-weary, laughably oblivious love-sick fool weren't likely to be very accurate. Thinking over it again, there was no real reason to imagine Prince Mildain was like _him_ , and Perceval-- Perceval would be furious if such an accusation were made about himself, and probably want a person jailed for suggesting such a thing of Mildain. Regardless, what Klein had uncovered about his _own_ heart that night was still true.

Why had he had to realize this about himself? Why did he have to be like this to begin with? Why was he thinking about this when he should be celebrating the end of the war? Why did it have to be _Dieck_ , with his quiet strength and his charming smile and his rough kindness and his _everything_.

If Klein continued to shut himself away in this room, eventually someone would come looking for him, Clarine or a messenger from the other generals maybe. Until they did though, he did not care to leave it.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a breather chapter, set up for the next one
> 
> Tweaked a bit how they discover the Dragon Temple for more realistic pacing (imo) and bc Merlinus conveniently remembering legends he's never mentioned is contrived

The Etrurian army stayed in the capital several days while Guinevere, though she had not been officially crowned yet, attended to matters of state (messages to military outposts to stand down, Zephiel's funeral, etc.). In the meantime, Roy and his advisors drew up plans to dissolve the patchwork army into its component groups and send everyone back to their respective homes, and the Church searched the castle and city for any sign of the "Dark Priestess" Zephiel had been known to consort with. It was suspected that the woman was, in reality, the Dark Dragon the king had resurrected to achieve his mad goals, but she had not been found when the army took the castle and no one knew quite what she looked like.

The clue they needed to chase her was discovered by chance.

Roy and those in his confidence had already agreed to return the sacred weapons to their previous hiding places if the Dark Dragon could not be found, but for the time being they decided to store them in one of the Bern Castle vaults, along with Ekesachs. No sooner had the weapons all been brought together than they began to glow: a beam of light formed between them, pointing south.

Quick research into old myths of the Scouring turned up a legend holding that the sacred weapons, when gathered together, would reveal the way to the temple stronghold of the dragons, and sure enough when the direction of the beam was charted on a map, it led to an area largely avoided due to old tales and superstitions that it was dragons' land.

It was decided Roy and a small band of soldiers would take the sacred weapons and see if there was any truth to the myth of the Dragon Temple, for if it existed it was surely where the Dark Dragon was hiding. Despite Roy's misgivings, Guinevere would accompany them, leaving the city temporarily in the hands of those ministers the Princess deemed trustworthy. She would officially ascend the throne only after she saw everything her brother began finished.

Though the group going to the Dragon Temple would still be acting under the name of "the Etrurian Army," they would depart after the main military forces had begun their journeys home, and would in actuality only be a group of volunteers who, for peace or for glory, were willing to face an ancient evil. Clarine was not someone Klein wanted to see among those volunteers, but she had other ideas.

"I have as much right to go as you, Klein!"

"It isn't a matter of right, it's a matter of safety. Besides, weren't you just saying yesterday how excited you were to show our parents how you've grown? And if you want to be the next Sorcery General, you'll have to start military training soon."

"I'm in the military now, aren't I?"

"Clarine, you know Lord Roy's army is... unusual." Klein thought of some of the disparaging remarks Perceval had made to him about Roy's unique brand of leadership and habit of letting anyone sympathetic to the cause, even children or common criminals (or children who _were_ common criminals, in more than one case), join up. "Once everything's back to normal, you'll find the real Etrurian Army is a much stricter affair."

Clarine made a face, but her brother could tell she took his point. "And what if you get hurt?"

"Guinevere's lady Elen will be with us. You remember her, right? She's a good enough healer for royalty, so I have nothing to fear. And we'll have that priest, Saul, with us too." Again Clarine made a displeased face, but she nodded.

"Saul is a lecher and Elen faint of heart, but they _are_ skilled healers. Very well. But I shall be expecting you back home soon, do you hear? Mother and Father would likely be just fine waiting around for years, but I won't."

"Of course." He hugged his sister affectionately, not bothering to point out that "lecherous" Saul hadn't reallt done anything worse than make a fool of himself to every passing maid, and "faint-hearted" Elen had weathered the same battles they all had. He knew Clarine was even more critical than usual when she was concerned about something, especially if that something was him.

"Tell them I'll be back before they know it. The Dark Dragon has to be stopped, but after this I think I'll have had enough of battlefields and killing for a lifetime."

"Indeed. Shall I also tell them Dieck will be visiting, or will that be a surprise?"

The unexpected question froze Klein in place. He had forgotten that he'd talked to her about that, earlier. Before he realized he had fallen in-- blundered into-- well, it didn't bear mentioning. He chose his words carefully.

"You might tell them he fought with Roy's army, but I don't think you need to mention a visit. It's not as if specific date or even a season for it was ever agreed upon. I... wouldn't hold it against him if he never ended up visiting at all."

"It would be awfully ru--" A raised eyebrow from her brother cut Clarine off. "Very well! You're the one closest to him, I suppose."

Klein winced internally, but said, "Thank you. You had best be going then. See that you make use of the travel time to talk with Cecilia and Douglas, they could both teach you much." Those two generals would be returning to Etruria with the main army to lay the groundwork for reforms and the Prince's return, while Perceval and Klein would go with Roy to accompany Mildain, who like Guinevere had insisted on seeing the matter of the Dark Dragon resolved himself. "And _do_ be polite."

"Naturally! I am a lady!"

"Every inch."

This time, it was Clarine who gave him a quick squeeze of a hug, and then she went to gather her things. Within the hour, she and the bulk of the Etrurian army had begun the western march home.

***

The small, fiery-haired youth who had led them through thick and thin stood before a small group of people, numbering less than thirty (plus a few faithful steeds and one workhorse for a small supply wagon). They were young and old, mage and warrior, noble and common, from all corners of Elibe.

"Thank you for standing by me. You were free to return to your lives, but chose to be here. Though Zephiel is dead, Elibe remains in danger until the Dark Dragon is defeated. We must move with haste to find her, and end Zephiel's madness." Roy had become mature beyond his 15 years, Klein thought. He would lead Pherae well, when he returned to his land.

The young lord raised the Binding Blade aloft, and pointed it dramatically southward. "Let's go!"

The responsibility he bore had not dulled his spirit.

As they left the city, Klein looked about group, seeing who else was there. It had been an informal thing, everyone deciding privately if and why they would go. Some of his companions he knew well, others he only vaguely recalled seeing around camp. One figure stood out, and he felt his stomach sink. Tall, well-built, scars covering his face and habitually shirtless chest, carrying an oversized sword with ease.

Even though the presumed location of the Dragon Temple was not so far away, this would be a long journey, thought Klein.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For most of the story, I was imagining like they had an actual army. But for the Dragon Temple, I was thinking something more like in-game how you have just a small number of people.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up for some descriptions of violence in this chapter

They were nearly at the temple when things went wrong. The war had ended with Zephiel's death, but his last surviving general, Brunya, had accepted neither loss. The Dark Dragon had not been at the castle on the fateful day because at that moment Brunya had been escorting her to the Dragon Temple, which did indeed exist, and now the general and a group of likeminded remnant Bern soldiers barred the way to it.

Though they were few in number, only a ghost of the country's previous might, they were determined to make one last stand against Roy and Etruria in the name of Zephiel's Bern. Roy's band itself was small now, too, small enough to give Brunya's forces a chance. It was enough for them, and they seized it with hopeless abandon: after refusing a final plea from Guinevere to lay down their weapons, they fell upon their enemy with all they had.

***

Prince Mildain had been right after all.

Clarine was already well on her way home. Lord and Lady Reglay had come out of the cout-d'état unharmed and untarnished. The war was over-- the war was over!-- and the Prince would return to restore Etruria. After these Bern stragglers were dealt with, it would surely be a only matter of time until Lord Roy conquered the Dark Dragon just as he had King Zephiel and all the challenges before. Roy would succeed, there was no doubt. And Dieck, judging from the way he was shouting in Klein's face, was still very much alive and well.

He sounded angry. He was probably humiliated to have needed saving-- he _had_ needed it though, they both had seen enough combat to know the mercenary had been taken by surprise and would have paid for it with his life if he had been alone. He hadn't been alone though. Even if he was angry to have his wishes to not see Klein again ignored right now, even if he was furious to have been saved by someone like Klein, disgusted to have been reminded that he was loved by someone like Klein (or should that be "had been" loved?), it didn't really matter. The important thing was that Dieck was safe.

That wyvern rider hadn't counted on Klein either, when he swept in too suddenly for an arrow to be drawn against him. He hadn't considered that just because a bow was no good in close combat, it didn't mean the scales couldn't be tipped in other ways, and now it was the rider and mount who were strewn across the grass while Dieck still stood tall. Especially tall, Klein thought, when one was looking up from the ground like this.

Klein was glad to have met him again after all these years. It had been a reunion, but also a meeting for the first time of the men they had both become. Despite the war, Klein was grateful for the time they'd been able to spend together. He had found the one he wanted, and Prince Mildain had been right after all:

The rest had worked out.

***

"What were you thinking? Why did you do that?!"

Dieck had watched scenes like this play out countless times in his career. He shouldn't care, he told himself, any more than he did about any ally, especially not for some manipulative highborn brat. And yet, a horror he had never felt before pounded in his heart. _Please, no_ , he found himself praying. _Not him_.

Haltingly, Klein raised his head just enough to look at Dieck, face full of... shame?

"You know why."

What the hell did that mean? Why did Klein look like the shame was hurting him worse than the length of steel and wood jutting from his side?

"No, I don't! ELEN!!" Dieck belted out the healer's name-- he had seen her nearby, before they were scattered-- at the top of his lungs and crouched to inspect the situation.

The spear had gone in at a bad angle when Klein had leapt in to push Dieck out of its path, and it had torn up half the archer's body as he tried to hang on and wrest it away from the rider, giving Dieck the chance he needed to recover and attack. The tactic had worked; both assailant and mount had both been cloven nearly in half by the mercenary's blade before they could extricate themselves and the spear, but now that healer needed to get here _fast_.

"I never wanted to be..." Klein coughed, a sickeningly wet cough that spattered darkly on his coat (what was left of it), and let his head drop back down. "...your brother."

Those same goddamn words, at a time like this. Was he feeling guilty about what he had said, guilty about using Dieck? If so, this was one hell of an over-apology. Why bother with a bodyguard in the first place if you were just going to jump in front of a spear in the end? This was backwards, it was wrong, it was always meant to have been _himself_ who--

Klein looked too pale. He had always been fair-skinned, yes, but not like this, not this cold, drained white. He was losing blood too fast; where was Elen?! And he was still trying to talk, of all things.

"I'm sorry. Someone like m--" There was a thick choking noise. Red dribbled from his mouth, the sentence left hanging.

"Klein?"

He didn't answer.

"Klein!"

The familiar shine in his eyes was gone, and his gaze was at nothing in particular. Nothing at all. Dieck stood and took a step back, then another. This wasn't happening.

"Sir Dieck! Are you--"

A woman's voice called out, and then the soft sound of hurried footfalls on grass as someone ran towards him stopped short with a gasp. "Sir Klein..!"

Elen dashed past and knelt by the archer. With surprising strength, she tugged the spear free, placed one hand over the gaping wound, and raised her staff in the other. She drew a deep breath and began the healing incantation, staff lighting up.

"Don't waste your power."

The voice was Dieck's, but it seemed to be coming from somewhere else, outside his body.

"He's gone."

The healer stiffened at the bluntness of his words, but seemed to acknowledge their truth. The staff dimmed and was lowered, and Elen made a small gesture of blessing with her reddened hands as she stood up.

"I... apologize for being too late."

"It happens."

Dieck strained his eyes intently toward the foothills of the nearby mountains, where the facade of the Dragon Temple was visible.

"There's still more left guarding the gate, looks like." He set off, not looking back at Elen. "Come on, we need to regroup. Others'll still be needing you." Not looking back at what lay on the ground by Elen's feet.

After a moment he heard her shuffling after him, and soon the unmoving forms of a wyvern and two men were left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't stop reading please there's still a few chapters left


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're still in Angst-ville and Elffin is still the only one with any sense

The gateway of the Dragon Temple towered menacingly, nothing visible in the shadows beyond but the faint beginnings of a stone stairway. Brunya and her tragic loyalists were dead, but before Roy's group entered a place of ancient magic they wanted to be absolutely prepared, so a few of their number had backtracked to the nearest village to buy what meager salves and weapons they could to replace the ones used or broken in the skirmish.

More importantly, they also carried with them those who had been too injured to recover with magic alone. Elen and Saul had done what they could while still reserving energy for whatever lay within the temple, but some would have to stay behind and simply rest while their bodies caught up to the magic worked upon them. By luck, one of the stray warriors Roy seemed to have a way of attracting to his cause had an uncle in the village, who assured them the wounded would be cared for there.

Everyone not transporting the injured or resupplying waited tensely by the gate, double- and triple-checking their gear or talking quietly amongst themselves. Their already small number had grown smaller and they did not know what lay ahead, but they would soon have to forge on nonetheless.

Dieck was turning his sword over, inspecting it for nicks and scratches for the who-knows-how-many-th time when a musical voice interrupted him.

"Would a song ease your heart?" Elffin asked.

It took a second for Dieck to realize the bard was talking to him. He shrugged and looked back at the blade he was examining.

"Wasn't aware it needed easing."

The bard hesitated before saying, sympathetically, "We all grieve in our own ways."

Dieck looked up again. "Who's grieving?" The bard didn't seem to mind the sharp challenge in his tone.

"Even in times when we expect such things, the loss of a dear friend is never easy. And if I were to lose..." Elffin trailed off. Dieck followed the direction of the man's soft gaze to-- that other Etrurian general? No, probably one of the people standing near him, though Dieck couldn't tell who. It wasn't his business anyway.

"I knew him, too, you know." The bard's attention had returned to him, and his voice was gentle and sad, a hint of real pain showing through on his usually mask-like face.

"Hm?"

"The Archery General. Perhaps not as _you_ knew him, but my heart is with you."

"Doubt that," muttered Dieck, the words out before he realized what he was saying. He quickly caught himself. "Sorry about your friend, then. Wasn't close with him myself. Don't really mix with nobles." He said it as much for himself as for the man he was addressing.

He had expected the bard to leave after that, but instead Elffin simply stood there, face troubled.

"My eyes fail me from time to time, but even I saw enough."

"You didn't see anything."

The bard's eyes narrowed, and his searching gaze bore into Dieck. "Perhaps, sir mercenary, it was _you_ who saw nothing."

The cryptic remark almost stirred Dieck to anger even through the wall of detachment he had thrown together, each step away from the body on the grass another brick. He had no ill will toward Elffin, had been glad of his music on occasion. But who was he to say anything about this?

"And just what is it you saw that I didn't?"

The bard gave him a look of deep pity.

"That you were loved."

Not waiting for a response, he started to walk away, pausing only to glance back and add, "As more than a 'brother'."

Dieck watched the long-haired man wander off toward some of the others, their conversations indistinct.

_I don't want to be your brother. I never did._

A new, terrible understanding creeping into his mind, he recalled what Klein had said at the stream. "Not a brother" didn't  _only_ mean " _less_ than a brother".

He thought again of all that had drawn him to the archer to begin with, too much to have been entirely a facade despite what his cynicism and betrayed pain wanted to believe. He remembered all the little things throughout the past months that he had pushed out of his mind, not daring to hope. Steadily, realization pressed down on Dieck like lead weight: he hadn't been not careful _enough_ in guarding his heart, he had been _too_  careful. So damned "careful" that he had jumped to paranoid accusations rather than listen to what was really being said.

_If it kept you near me..._

He thought vividly of that embrace in front of the castle, so brief and inexplicable it had been like a passing dream but too tangibly, undeniably real.

 _So_ that's _the sort of person Klein Reglay is._

Whatever wall Dieck had built came crashing apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There IS going to be a happy ending... just hang on a bit longer!


	21. Chapter 21

Flight after flight of stone stairs led Roy's band into the heart of the Dragon Temple. Though the gateway had been carved into a mountainside, it must have been a portal into some other kind of realm, for the surrounding darkness was not that of a mountain cave but of pure nothingness, and the stairs climbed higher than should have been possible under the low peak they had entered. The weight of magic in the air pressed heavy about them.

There were dragons here, powerful and many, the army of mindless war beasts Zephiel would have used to burn the human world to the ground. It was for this they had gathered the sacred weapons, thought Dieck. It hadn't seemed like anything to do with him, he had just done as Roy commanded because the young lord 1. was paying him, and 2. actually seemed worth fighting for. Roy had a good heart and a smart head; that was enough.

The legends had mattered to Klein, though, he had understood their gravity. What would he have thought to see this place, to see the sacred weapons put to use? The pointless question passed through Dieck's mind as they climbed yet another set of stone stairs. Klein had called him a man worthy of wielding one of the sacred weapons, a hero. The memory of dull eyes and pallid skin flashed through his thoughts. He was _not_ a hero.

As the group continued to scale the temple, cutting down war dragons, a strange man in red periodically appeared and spoke with Roy only to disappear again. That man was a dragon himself, Dieck vaguely gathered, a true dragon of old whose words were surely profound, but the mercenary couldn't focus on what was being said. Klein would have listened; Dieck had come for this last mission because battle was all he knew but Klein had come because this all Meant Something to him.

He should've just gone home with his sister!

Finally there were no more stairs, no more man in red, only an unearthly, black-robed woman: the Dark Priestess, or the Dark Dragon, one and the same. With a flash of light, scales and teeth grew, leathery wings unfurled, a serpentine tail lashed across the stone dais in the emptiness of the temple. The war dragons were grass lizards in comparison to the massive, unfeelingly malevolent being that stood before them.

Now there was something you didn't see every day.

Roy's band drew their weapons.

***

Considering how far they had climbed, the speed with which the small group of warriors made their way back to the temple entrance was impressive, but they had a strong motivation to hurry: the temple, millennia old and supported by the magic of dragons who, save for a one little girl and one comatose woman, no longer existed, has been unable bear the forces unleashed in the battle with the Dark Dragon and was now collapsing about them. Just in time, the last of Roy's number made it out into the sunlight of the Bern countryside before the stone gateway crumbled in on itself.

Once the dust settled and it became clear everyone had escaped, Roy spoke with his bewildered attendant Merlinus, who had waited vigilantly at the foot of the mountain rather than in the village with the wounded. Dieck didn't hear what they were saying (something about the Dark Priestess), instead noticing that the bodies from the battle with Brunya were nowhere to be seen.

"Merlinus," he called gruffly once the man seemed done talking to his liege. "What happened to the bodies?"

"The bodies?" The balding man looked more than a little put off at the distasteful question. "The villagers came to collect them while you were in the temple, bless them. They were countrymen, even if the village wanted no part in the fighting... they're burying them now, I presume."

"Did they take _all_ of them?" Dieck fought to keep his voice neutral.

"I'm sure I don't know, I was waiting for Lord Roy, not moving _bodies_. But I don't see why they wouldn't have?" Merlinus gave the mercenary a puzzled look.

This time, Dieck did not wait or bother with politeness. Without explaining himself to the still-confused supplymaster, he ran to interrupt Roy from a conversation with the sorcerer girl from Nabata.

"Roy! Sir. I'm going ahead to the village!"

"Huh? We're already heading there now, and pushing yourself isn't--"

" _Sir!_ "

The pleading desperation he was trying to contain must have reached Roy, for a look of concern crossed the young lord's face and he simply nodded.

"Thank you, sir!"

Dieck took off for the village at a sprint. He had made a mistake, a terrible mistake, and even though he couldn't take it back he could at least see Klein one more time before he disappeared into the darkness of the earth. Apologize even if the words wouldn't be heard. He _had_ to do at least that much.

As Merlinus had said, the villagers were busy digging when Dieck found them. The first person he tried to talk to nearly attacked him with a shovel-- being mistaken for a bandit wasn't a new occurrence for him, and he realized belatedly that charging into a village still carrying a sword and covered in ash and blood from the temple hardly helped. When he managed to explain that he was only there to say goodbyes to one of the fallen, though, the villagers' attitudes changed from alarm and wariness to sympathy.

A woman led him to where the bodies that hadn't yet been interred lay waiting, then quietly went back to digging, leaving him in privacy. Dieck stepped carefully between them, looking for any hint of a blue coat and gold hair...

...but found nothing. He was too late _again_ , just as he had been too late in noticing the attacking rider, and too late in understanding Klein's words. There was no point looking among the finished graves, either, for only Brunya's had been given any kind of name marker.

With nothing left of the frantic energy that had carried him to the village, Dieck felt as though he, too, could just sink into the ground.

The wounded were convalescing here, he recalled. Roy and the others would arrive soon enough, but Dieck decided to go see how they were doing first. He had to do _something_ , anything. A different villager from earlier pointed out to him a low building they were using as a treatment ward and, thanking him, Dieck stepped inside.

Those within were all sleeping deeply, but none were in any danger of slipping away. Some would have permanent reminders of the battle-- magic could only do so much-- but they would live. Dieck walked quietly among them, not wanting to disturb their recovery. There was that reckless half-Sacaean swordsman (a friend, of sorts), the mousy archer girl whom he sometimes saw Clarine speak with, various long-serving Lycian and/or Ostian knights--

He stopped dead in his tracks.

In the corner of the room was a bed that looked like it had been placed there after the other beds had been arranged, awkwardly tucked into what space was left over. Folded on the foot of the bed were the remains of a coat that, beneath the crust of dried blood, might once have been a rich blue color, and though the face of the bed's occupant was turned to the wall one could guess them to be a young man from their size and build. Light from a nearby window shone brightly off his golden hair, and his chest rose and fell with the slow, steady breathing of someone at rest and alive.

It was Klein.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I for one am absolutely Shocked at this definitely-not-predictable turn of events


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter count has been bumped up to 25 because I forgot to count the epilogue... oops

Was this real? Dieck wanted to reach out and touch the sleeping figure in front of him, make sure it wasn't an illusion. He had seen some pretty unbelievable things today already. He lifted his hand, but then hesitated, as though contact might break something-- the illusion, if that was what it was after all, or the sleeping man, who still looked much more fragile than Dieck cared for, far too similar to the crumpled, unmoving shape he had left on the grass only hours earlier.

"Oh," a voice from the doorway startled Dieck. "That one we picked up ourselves-- you folk must've missed him when you brought in your wounded. Almost dug a grave for him, too."

An old man walked over to the bed to stand beside Dieck. From his garments, he looked to be a man of the cloth. "I'm no great healer, there's not call 'round here to treat much more than winter colds, mostly. I couldn't have saved him on my own, that's for sure, but looks like someone else made just enough of a start for me to do the rest. He's a lucky one, he is."

Dieck nodded mutely, making a mental note to give Elen his month's pay. Or year's pay, or life's savings; however much she'd accept.

Just then, the sound of exclamations and commotion came from outside.

"That'll be your comrades," the old priest remarked. "I've done what I can for the living, but there's still dead needing blessings if they're to rest in peace. Tell your friends to keep their voices down in here, won't you?" With that, he left to return to the burial of Brunya's soldiers.

Sure enough, people soon started to trickle into the low building, some satisfied to just see their friends healing well before going to attend other matters, others standing or sitting watchfully by especially close companions. Dieck hadn't been paying them much attention until heavy, armored footsteps, evenly paced at first but then hurried, brought the large, dour Etrurian Knight General to join him at Klein's bedside. Even on his typically inexpressive face, Dieck could see shock and relief at finding his colleague in a bed rather than a grave. The man turned to him abruptly.

"Go tell his H- the bard, get the bard. He'll want to know." He was brusque and clearly expected to be obeyed, but seeing hesitation, added, "I'll watch him," with a nod and a glance at Klein. He looked back at Dieck, eyes narrowed. "And wash your face, you're filthy."

Overly blunt as the general was, he was right, and considering the shovel incident earlier it was probably better for Dieck to at least make himself recognizable before Klein awoke. With one more lingering look at the sleeping man, the mercenary went to find Elffin and some water.

***

Death was a funny thing. Klein had always been afraid the actual dying part would be terribly painful, and yet it hadn't been so bad (hardly _pleasant_ , but surprisingly easy). Being dead, on the other hand, he had thought would be peaceful, or at least not hurt. It hurt like hell.

His side and chest ached, and he tried reaching to see if spears, too, had an afterlife, but his hands felt leaden and hard to move. With effort, he instead managed to turn his also-heavy head and force his eyes open.

Instead of a spear, what he blurrily saw were two people who looked like Mildain and Dieck seated next to him, and standing behind them a man who looked like Perceval. It couldn't _actually_ be those men, though: if Perceval were here alone that would be one thing (laying down one's life if need be was one of a knight's duties, after all), but he would never have let the Prince die, and Dieck had _definitely_ survived, Klein had made sure of that.

Hadn't he?

"Dieck...?" His voice was weak and doubtful.

The man who looked like Dieck opened his mouth to speak but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat, and instead he just nodded. _Oh_ , thought Klein with a sinking feeling. He had failed, then.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, closing his eyes again. He hadn't been able to make out what face Dieck was making, and thought he probably didn't want to know, now. "Your Highness, Perceval, you too..? How... was it the Dark Dragon..?"

There had been an indignant hiss from Perceval's direction when Klein mentioned the Prince, and it sounded like the Knight General was starting to say something but Mildain's voice cut in.

"It's all right, Perceval."

"But in front of this man!"

"He is not one of the conspirators, unless the Etrurian court has changed even more than I realized." There was a pause. "I would ask your discretion though, sir mercenary, for the time being."

Secret identities and court intrigue seemed very strange things for dead people to still be worrying about. Klein reopened his eyes and tried to focus this time, taking in his surroundings. His hair was obscuring his vision somewhat, but he could see that he appeared to be in a simply built, low-ceilinged room, crowded with equally simply constructed beds. He himself was in a bed, he realized. People he recognized were sleeping or walking about and speaking with each other. All around, they looked decidedly more alive than dead, if somewhat worse for wear. Finally, Klein had to ask.

"Where am I?"

"A small village in Bern." It was Mildain who answered, calmly and gently. "There's a lake nearby, close to the mountains. We passed it earlier, do you remember?"

A lake, and mountains...

"The Dragon Temple--!"

"Is destroyed." He reached out and brushed Klein's hair away from his eyes, smiling. "It seems Etruria may need to find a new Archery General, but not a new Klein Reglay. Fortunate, as I hear they're difficult even for princes to come by."

The prince glanced at Perceval, then the door. A small expression crossing the knight's face, Perceval looked quickly from Mildain to Klein, to Dieck, and back to Mildain before addressing Klein.

"I am relieved to see you are well. We can ill afford to lose trustworthy men at a time like this. Excuse me." He bowed, then made his way through the crowded room and left. Klein knew him well enough to hear the sincerity in his voice, curt as it was.

A few moments later, Mildain rose from the little stool he had been seated on. "My harp is somewhat out of tune, I believe. There may be call for song this evening; I had best sort it before then. A speedy recovery, Lord Klein." He, too, dipped his head and walked away, leaving only Dieck at the bedside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: you two need to talk


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up for internalized homophobia stuff in this chapter

Klein had turned his face once more to the wall, avoiding meeting the eyes of the man sitting beside him. Why was Dieck here at the bed of someone who sickened him? Someone he had said he never wanted to see again? If he felt some obligation or gratefulness because Klein had saved his life, he could have just said a short thanks and left, but so far he'd said not a word. If and when he spoke, would it be to tell Klein how disappointed he was that the archer had survived, that he should have just died and spared them both any further trouble? ...No, that was unfair. Dieck was still the same person who had caught Klein's heart; he wasn't a malicious sort even if he _was_ repulsed by the archer's mislaid affections. So then why?

Klein's thoughts and the long, awkward silence between the two men were eventually interrupted by a strange sound, one the young noble had never heard before. Cautiously, he turned toward the mercenary, from whom the sound seemed to have come. It turned out he needn't have worried about meeting the other's eyes at this point, for Dieck was leant over with his head resting heavily in his hands.

The noise was definitely coming from him, Klein was sure now. He had heard sounds _like_ it, from other people, but he never could have imagined such a thing from _Dieck_ if he weren't hearing it right now, seeing his shoulders heave at that very instant.

"Are you... crying?"

Sobbing would have been a more accurate description. Wrack his (admittedly still disoriented) brain as he might, Klein couldn't think of an explanation for this. It was bewildering, and he wasn't sure if the mercenary had heard his question; there had been no answer but continued sobs. Gathering his strength, Klein tentatively lifted his near hand toward the man, and was startled when, without even looking up, Dieck snatched it tightly.

For a few minutes they stayed like that, Klein trying to understand what was happening and Dieck clinging onto his hand as if it were a lifeline to a man fallen overboard at sea, still drawing shuddering, teary breaths. Not sure what to do, the archer gripped back in what he hoped was a comforting way and rubbed his thumb along edge of the mercenary's callused fingers (about the extent of movement Dieck's vice-grip allowed for).

"Idiot," the older man finally managed to get out between breaths that were beginning to calm, voice still ragged. "Stupid, lucky idiot."

"I'd like to think this idiot saved your life," Klein said with a weak laugh.

The equally feeble but familiar, wonderful laugh in return told him he'd broken through the barrier that had been between them since he woke up; no, since the stream in the capital. " _I'm_ the idiot, idiot."

The hands holding his relaxed ever so slightly. Klein waited for Dieck's breathing to fully even out and the redness to clear a little from his face before pressing any further.

"What happened? After..."

"I thought you were dead."

"So did I," the archer admitted.

"I was so sure, I... I told Elen to leave you. Told her other people needed her more." There was guilt, anguish in the swordsman's face and tone.

"Other people like these?" Klein gestured to the rest of the room with a sweep of his eyes, still too tired to move much else.

"Well-- yeah, but--"

"Then it was the right decision."

"I _left_ you to _die_."

"I was ready to. You'd be saying the same if it were you," he added, preempting any argument from the other man.

Dieck made a motion as though he couldn't decide between shaking his head at Klein's reckless action and nodding at that line of reasoning. His grip had relaxed enough by now that the archer's hand was simply resting between his own, and he looked down at it.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright, I just said--"

"No, not that. What I said before, back in the capital... I didn't understand what you were telling me. I didn't _try_ to understand. I'm sorry."

Klein tensed. For a few minutes, he had almost been able to believe Dieck had forgotten about all that. He sighed. Coming back from the dead was enough of a miracle for one day, he supposed.

"Maybe things like that just can't be understood." Try asking a bird to understand living in the ground like a worm, or the sun to understand darkness. It just wasn't how things were. He blinked back the hot shame rising in him. "Please, just forget about it. You won't have to hear from me again."

He tried to withdraw his hand, but his movements were still sluggish. It was easy for Dieck to catch hold once more, lightly this time, just tight enough to send a message: _wait. Don't go_.

"I _can_ understand though. I _do_."

Gently, carefully he drew Klein's hand up and toward him, toward his chin. No, toward--

"Dieck, what..?"

More delicately than one would have guessed the rough, scarred man capable of, Dieck pressed his lips to Klein's fingers, closing his eyes. He opened them and fixed the younger man with a piercing, meaningful gaze, and there was a faint redness in his face that was not simply the aftereffect of tears. A charge raced through the Klein, like lightning under his skin.

Oh. He really DID understand.

Maybe two miracles in one day was possible after all.


	24. Chapter 24

Before everything that needed to be explained between them could be, Dieck and rest of the able were ushered out of the treatment area by the village priest so that the injured could get some more uninterrupted rest. It would be at least another day until everyone was recovered enough to be moved, and none among Roy, Guinevere, and Elffin (or should that be Mildain? the reveal still was sinking in, for Dieck) were in favor of splitting up just yet, so the group made itself useful in the small lakeside village. Some helped finish burying the Bern soldiers from the earlier battle, some helped with cooking or odd jobs, and one simply spent the time catching up with an uncle she hadn't seen since childhood.

Only four left early: the two girls from Nabata, their guardian, and the Dark Priestess, slipping away in the night (for secrecy from the rest of the world, not from Roy, who knew their plans) to return to their hidden desert settlement and try to mend a heart broken for a thousand years.

Dieck wondered, when he learned of their departure the next morning, how and when he himself should leave. It would have to wait until Klein was well, that was certain, and until he had officially concluded his contract with Roy, but it would be soon. He found ways to occupy himself and his restless thoughts for most of the day, not returning to check on Klein until the light began to take on the warm hue of approaching sunset. Though the archer's injuries had been the group's worst, even he was ready to try leaving his bed by then. Slowly, Klein walked with Dieck toward the lakeshore.

Despite traveling in the company of proper healers for months now, Dieck was always struck by how quickly people could recover with a little (or a lot of) magic to get things started, and just how much they could recover from. Most mercenary bands weren't lucky enough to have such gifted people among them, he thought as the waning sun lit up his younger companion, and the yet-new graves they passed outside the village were an ominous reminder that not even the greatest military could not always guarantee such a luxury.

"...to be my bodyguard?"

They had been talking as they went, and Dieck had just recounted his impression of their conversation in the capital.

"It was that or actually use my head, and we both know I'm an idiot, remember?"

"The worst I know." Klein smiled teasingly, then turned serious. "I don't mean that." By the Saint, he really _couldn't_ lie, thought Dieck affectionately. "And... I can understand why you wouldn't trust me."

They had been walking at an easy pace, set by Klein, and it took a moment for Dieck to realize he had stopped altogether. Thinking the archer must be tired, he waited for him to start up again, but instead Klein hesitatingly extended a hand to touch one of the more painfully-gotten scars on the mercenary's body. It was years old and didn't bother him anymore, but the contact sent a chill through him, not in a bad way. He neither shrank back nor attempted to move Klein's hand.

"Anything I did that that made you think I could treat you like..." Klein lightly traced the warped skin with one finger, looking at it grimly and distantly. "I'm sorry."

"You haven't d--" Dieck started to reply but was caught by the other's brilliant, shining gaze as he suddenly jerked his head up to meet his eyes.

"I never want to use you, or hurt you. Ever."

That look, that declaration and the strength of the _emotion_ behind driving the words like so many arrows right into his heart, took Dieck's breath away for an instant.

"Then quit the army." The words blurted from his mouth with none of the younger man's grace.

"Wh-- the army?"

Whatever Klein had expected him to say, it obviously wasn't that.

"You said-- look, you don't wanna hurt me? Don't _die_ then." He couldn't go through that again. "Quit the army."

After a moment, the startled expression on Klein's face gave way to a smile. His shoulders shook with a small-- was he laughing? Dieck grabbed his arm.

"I'm serious!"

"I know! It's just--" He was still laughing. "After _this_ , I don't think--"

"There could be _other_ wars! Or brigands in the countryside, or, what is it, 'civil unrest', or, or..."

" _Dieck_." The firmly reassuring voice finally stopped the mercenary's stumbling words. Klein was eyeing him with a mixture of amusement and tenderness, and just a hint of regret. "I don't think I'll be able _shoot_ again, let alone keep my post."

The archer stepped away and pantomimed drawing back an arrow, or rather attempted to and winced in pain and chagrin at the very limited range of motion he was actually capable of. He dropped his arms and gestured lamely at his chest and side, point proven. Even the best healing magic had limits, and the area where the spear had gouged and stuck into him would be a mass of knots and scar tissue for the rest of Klein's life. Leaving the job half-started for hours probably hadn't helped.

Dieck had been too distracted to think about what it meant at the time, but now he recalled what Elffin had said when Klein awoke: Etruria would need a new Archery General. Wordlessly, the two men resumed their walk.

After a few paces, Klein spoke up, a wry smile audible in his voice. "Brigands, though? I hoped you had a higher opinion of me than that."

"I do," Dieck muttered. Klein was the best damn archer he'd seen. Or had been. "What'll you do now?"

"Hm... It will be up to Prince Mildain, in the end, but I think... I'd rather try stopping wars from beginning than fighting to end them." The noble looked thoughtful. "The Prince will need people he can trust at home, but he'll need to send someone to build trust with other nations as well."

"An ambassador?"

"Do you think it's naive?"

Dieck shook his head. "If anyone can do it, it's you." He felt Klein lean appreciatively into his shoulder; at some point they had taken hold of each other's hands and were now walking with scarcely any space between them. It was nice, Dieck thought with a twinge of guilt. As if reading his mind, Klein spoke again, voice quiet.

"You mean to continue as a mercenary, don't you." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah." He sighed. "I'm gonna break up the current company, I know they've all got homes to return to and this gig-- this _war_ \--was more than anone counted on, but. I can't settle."

"You won't attract many employers, alone." Again, it was a statement of fact, not an attempt to dissuade or argue. They both knew there was no point, and as different as they were, changing each other had never been a goal for either of them.

"Then I'll be a wandering swordsman, if nobody'll pay me." Dieck said it flippantly, but he wasn't entirely sure how serious he was being himself. He considered. "Think I've made enough in this war to last a good bit." Elen had refused his money, despite his best efforts to convince her to accept, saying that to have saved a life was reward enough. Honestly, the woman was the reincarnation of Elimine herself.

"A wandering swordsman? Why, that almost sounds _romantic_." Klein grinned.

With his free hand, the larger man waved sarcastically at his scarred face. "You know me, I'm the pit of me at romance."

"The 'epitome' of romance. And yes, you are."

The tone was light, but completely sincere. Dieck had to stop. Though Klein might never wield a bow again, he was still deadly. Lethal.

When the burning in his cheeks had subsided and his face was no longer an embarrassing shade of red, Dieck turned to the man next to him. With a bit more anxiety slipping into his voice than he would've liked, he said,

"I'm not your only choice, you know. There's-- well, it's probably harder with a House breathing down your neck about producing heirs, but from what I've seen of things, it's not _unthinkable_ at least. What I mean is, we're not the only ones who... you could find someone better."

It took a few seconds for comprehension to register in Klein's indigo eyes. He blinked. "There isn't anyone better."

"I know it _seems_ like that; no one'd talk about this sorta thing in court or such, but there _are_  others like you. Like me. And for you, there'll be people with better standing, better looks, better age... better job, better _life_ \--"

"There _isn't_ anyone better." Klein repeated, shaking his head. "I love _you_. I'd choose you over anyone, even if you didn't love me back, or do I need to jump in front of another spear to prove it?"

Dieck pulled the younger man close against himself. "Don't even joke."

There was a beat of silence.

"Do you, though?"

"Do I what?"

Klein buried his head against the taller man's chest, muffling what he said next.

"Speak up."

Dieck tilted Klein's chin up from his chest. This time the words were clear, weighted with apprehension and hope. "Do you love me?"

"...Now who's the idiot?" There was still a shadow of doubt in Klein's face though. Dieck sighed happily and stroked the other man's cheek. "Yes. More than anything."

The smile that followed his words was the best sight he had ever seen, Dieck thought. He leant down and was met in a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's just the epilogue left, which is very short! I might post it later today if I get it done in time.


	25. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little epilogue to tie things off... plus end notes. I'm posting this the same day as ch.24 so if you missed that make sure to read it first!

It was some time before order fully returned to Elibe. There were those who opposed Guinevere's succession in Bern, there was shock in Etruria when the truth of Mildain's poisoning came to light, and across many lands there was rebuilding to be done, both literally and figuratively. For all these troubles, though, there were people who worked tirelessly to ensure that the new peace would be a lasting one.

One such person was Ambassador Klein of House Reglay. His diplomatic words and fair judgement helped restore Etruria to a place of prosperity and esteem among the nations, and resolved many budding conflicts before they could turn violent. To say a man is silver-tongued can imply deceit, but for Klein, the elegance of his speech was always matched with truthfulness, and so his skill with words earned the name "The Silver Prince."

There were of course, always those whom diplomacy would not sway, from simple brigands to vengeful malcontents to corrupt nobles with as much cruelty as they desired to have power. But in the years after the war, many of the worst of these types seemed to vanish mysteriously, leaving nothing behind save whispered tales of a lone swordsman covered in scars. Some say this swordsman even scattered a force of a hundred men single-handedly... but there is no solid proof of his existence one way or the other.

What can be seen for sure, in studying records of those days, is that in all his travels, even on missions through the most volatile areas, Ambassador Klein never came to any harm, and a fair amount of the purported sightings of the scarred swordsman-- the "Wounded Tiger," as folklore calls him-- are from villages and cities that the ambassador passed through, both peaceful and restless.

The ambassador never took a wife, which neither his House nor his Prince (later King) seemed to mind. The Reglay line continued through his sister, Etruria's Sorcery General and a woman as willful as she was charming, who insisted on having her husband take her name. It caused some stir, but she asserted that "eccentricity was her family's truest heritage," and no one could find it in their hearts to oppose her for long (whether for love or for fear, the reader may decide). In the end many attributed Klein's lack of a spouse to this "eccentricity" and a dedication to his work: surely it was a busy and fulfilling job, and he never seemed lonely or unhappy in his travels.

But some say that there were nights they saw a large, cloaked figure return with him to his lodgings, or days in quiet places where they saw him walking with a tall companion whose face and body were obscured. The shadowy character was even rumored to have been seen at Castle Reglay itself.

Some tales have it that the shrouded figure was a ghost from the war with Bern, haunting the ambassador, but others say it was the ambassador himself who was in pursuit. This is all speculation and lore, of course. But what all tales that mention it agree on is that whenever the two found each other, it was always in those times that Klein was happiest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done!! \o/ I hope you enjoyed it, thank you for sticking around!
> 
> The "eccentric" bit is a nod to Pent and Louise who are odd characters in several ways, both in terms of personality and in terms of flouting social norms, and of course a roundabout/old-fashioned/code way to refer to Klein being gay (he would tell his family in some form eventually, and they would be fine with it. They're good).
> 
> The "Silver Prince" and "Wounded Tiger" titles/situations are both from the characters' in-game epilogues. Obviously the game doesn't say anything about their paths overlapping, but if you think about it, a traveling ambassador could much more easily meet up with a wandering swordsman than a noble stuck in court at home so!! They can both live their lives and still see each other _(:3
> 
> Also, while Clarine's epilogue doesn't specify *Sorcery* General it *does* say she becomes a general (in the JP, anyway; fan translation I think changes it to "princess" or something) a beloved but very "my way" type of general, so I filled in.


End file.
